


A Song Of Silver and Gold

by FanBoysDelight



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Story, Alternate Universe, Brand new story, Fanfiction, Other
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-01
Updated: 2021-01-18
Packaged: 2021-02-28 12:00:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 74,579
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22969645
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FanBoysDelight/pseuds/FanBoysDelight
Summary: A story which Robert Baratheon, and Cersei Lannister have a pair of true born twins with Targaryan traits, who end up being a new wonder to all of Westeros. Throughout their lives they'll be tested and challenged with adversity as they grow as royals in a medieval age. Tested by gods and faith, forced to takes side between family and friendship as a war that'll be quenched with blood of man, wrecks throughout the realm, the two twins will be forged by their choices as they come to understand what destiny has planned for them. The Game Of Thrones has started, and with many players, only time will tell how these players will affect the game.
Relationships: OC/Margaery Tyrell
Comments: 24
Kudos: 19





	1. Prologue I

**Author's Note:**

> A new story i'm testing out, just seeing where this one goes. for all those who read, i hope you enjoy. Name pronouce Owla-keys.

284AC

Kings Landing was shaking as a storm erupted around the kingdom. Handmaidens and midwives were rushing in and out of a nursing room as the wailing screams of a woman could be heard all throughout the Red Keep. The screams were youthful and vigorful unlike those of a dying man and were ringing across the Red Keep along with the roaring of the storm outside its bloody walls. A handmaiden made her way into the chamber with towels in her hand as she saw the Queen of The Seven Kingdoms, Cersei Lannister, laying on a labor bed, her hands clenching the sheets tightly till her knuckles turned white as she screamed to the top of her lungs. 

“Gods, just pull him out of me already” she screamed at them all. Jaime Lannister, the Queens twin brother was pacing back and forth in his corner of the room, sweat beating down his face drop by drop as he watched his sisters painful birthing. Grand Maester Pycelle was in between the Queens legs peering into her as she pushed her child out. 

“He’s almost out your grace, just one more push” the old man says. With that the Queen gritted her teeth and pushed, her face turning red as her head reeled back onto the bed, her hair sprayed out in every direction, and then. 

“WAHH”

“WAHH”

A babes scream cried out alongside the crackling thunderstorm of the Crownlands sudden wrath. Jamie stopped his pacing and looked towards his sister, his face changing to one of relief that his sister managed another successful birth. The handmaiden assisting the Grand Maester wrapped the newborn in cloth as she peered down at the child. 

Pycelle took out a set of glasses, steadily placing them on his face trying to steady his shaking hands. The Grand Maester took a good look at the child peering at his likeness when his eyes widened. 

“Oh my” he said tugging at his beard. Cersei used what little strength she had managed to lift her head to look towards her child. 

“What is it?” she asked as a concern expression washed over her face, but before she could get an answer from the two she wailed out again, loudly. 

Her midwife rushed back to her side, the Queen starting to push again almost by nature as she felt the strain building back up. “Gods, there's still one more” she says. 

“Just one more push your grace” the handmaiden says. Cersei wanted to tell the women to shut her mouth but the pain wouldn't let her.

With a final push another that used up what little energy or strength the Queen had as she collapsed back onto the bed. Jaime watched as the handmaiden wrapped another one of his sisters' newborn babe in cloth. 

The kingsguard knight wondered if these children would share his likeness. He didn’t particularly pay attention to his sister's first child, who he knew was his but couldn’t have that known. 

Now she’s given birth to twins no less. 

Cersei who was breathing with exhaustion pulled herself up and asked for her babies. The midwife looked at the child cautiously, looking at her features greatly, then back at the Queen as she made her way towards her as Pycelle came as well with the other child. “It’s a girl your grace” the handmaiden says. 

“And was that one a boy?” the Queen asked as she looked at Grand Maester Pycelle. 

“Yes, your grace, a healthy boy” he says showing her the child. 

The Queen grew a smile across her face as she looked upon her children. She took her son in her hands and rubbed his tiny face as she examined him up and down. When her eyes rested on his eyes though she gasped. The child's eyes were mismatched. The left was a dark blue, and the right was a light green. She then noticed the top of his head. The stubble that was growing was neither black nor blonde, but was silver. 

“This is” was all the queen could get out. “Bring me my other child” she commanded the midwife, her voice frantic. Her brother was slowly making his way to her side wondering what all the concern was about. 

_Was there something off about my sister's newborns_ he thought? The midwife made her way to the queen placing the child within Cersei’s grasp as she handed over her son. 

She rubbed her daughters head and thought the same thing again.

“Silver hair stubble, same as her brothers, and the same eyes as well” she says. Her thoughts were racing. _How can this be? These can’t be Jaimes_ she thought. _They must be Roberts.. but._

Before she could finish her thought she saw the King himself marching in, a wet cloak across his back and his boots muddy from his hunt as he carried a couple of animal pelts in his hand ready to give them to his wife. 

“My what a storm. Fierce, fierce i tell ya” the King roared. 

The two babies had calmed down from their fit but at the king's arrival they began again.

Cersei glared at him as she soothed her newborn babes calming then as the King approached them. Jon Arryn had entered shortly after the king eager to see the newly born children himself. She cautiously showed the babies to Robert who was about to grab for them when he stopped. Cersei looked concerned as she glanced towards Jaime, then looked back at Robert. 

The King rubbed their heads, staring at the silverish color it had. Their mismatched blue and green eyes looking back up at their father.

“Robert… say something my love” the Queen says. "They have silver hair. Not black. Or even blonde, but silver” he says almost absentmindedly. 

Not one said anything. 

Jaime slowly began to walk towards his sister, not really knowing where this situation was going to turn. Luckily Jon Arryn in his ever most wisdom came forward to defuse the situation. 

“Your grace, by chance your children inherited a dormant Targaryan gene passed down from your ancestor. Your grandmother was a Targaryan princess, so it could be likely that a specific gene came forward with these sets of babes” Jon says looking down onto the children. 

“Blue and green eyes, proof of the union between Baratheon and Lannister. It's quite rare for someone to have heterochromia, but it does happen”' he finishes speaking with a clear resolve. 

Robert simply huffed as one of the babes grabbed ahold of one of his fingers. As he looked down onto the child, his daughter, he couldn’t help but feel something. The child had Targaryen traits, but for the first time no hate came from the Stag Kings heart. A faint smile grew on his face, one that no one noticed. “Have you named them yet?” he asked his wife. The Queen shook her head, “no, i was going to wait for you to arrive” she says. 

“Very well. I have an idea for the boy, if you have one for the girl” the King said. “For our son. How about Alycilles” the King said with a dragging tone. Cersei didn’t speak but went over the name in her head, repeating it in her head until she repeated it aloud. “I like it” she says looking up at the King. “An for our girl. Saphira” Queen Cersei says. “A beautiful name” King Robert says. The two babies with their little hands holding onto eachother seem to both look up to their parents as if recognizing the names they were given as they gaze at their parents, the ones who brought them into this world unknowing of the destiny the gods planned for them. 

289AC:

In the training courtyards of the Red Keep, the clacking of wood rung through the air. A knight in golden armor with a milky white cloak draped on his back was wielding a wooden sword standing in the center of the yard while a young boy who barely reached to the knights waist was circling the man looking for an opening. “Very good. Don’t simply rush your opponent, always look for a chance at an opening, and if you can’t, then make one” the knight in golden armor said his voice stern and demanding. 

The young prince stopped just in front of the knight, his wooden sword aimed up high with both his hands gripped against the hilt. 

“Yes Ser Barristan” the young boy says his voice calm and soft. 

The golden knight in that moment saw what every knight likes to see in their squires. Pure determination an drive to succeed no matter what, and when the prince first came to him with the incentive to become this old knights squire, he knew, even back then, that he was no ordinary child. 

The young prince saw this opportunity, and rushed the knight bringing his wooden sword up to his shiny armor. Ser Barristan raised his sword to block the strike but he soon realized it was a feint as the young boy quickly spun on his heel bringing the wooden sword to the knights side only for the knight to anticipate the move and parry it, knocking the boy backwards. “Not too bad Prince Alycilles, any other warrior would have fallen for that attack.” The boy stood up smiling from his mentors compliment. “You truly are amazing Ser.” 

As the prince was taking his stance ready to continue their exchange, he noticed two figures walking towards them. Ser Barristan noticed as well and turned his attention. Queen Cersei walked up to them along with a little girl next to her with silvery golden hair, the Princess Saphira, the Queen's daughter and twin sister of Alycilles. 

“Your grace” Ser Barristan says as he bows. 

“Mother” the young prince says as he ran up to her. The queen wrapped her arms around her son embracing him as she rubbed his head. The young prince adored his mother with all his heart and had a connection with her that not even Joffrey had. 

“Hello there my sweet child. How is your training going?” she asked. The young boy looked up to her, his face beaming with a smile. “Ser barristan says i’m going to be just as good as him in no time” he says. 

She rubs his silver hair with a hint of blonde as she smiles down on him. “Just make sure you're careful.” She then looks towards the old knight. I’ll be taking my son along with me now Ser Barristan. The king is in need of your service” she says. The knight bowed and proceeded to leave. 

Prince Alycilles walked with his mother alongside his sister who looked at him with a smile making a face at him, her blue-green eyes matching her brothers. He giggled at her funny face, his voice like a charm to those who heard it. 

The two of them were almost inseparable only to be apart when the prince was busy with his training. The Queen took them to a room where most of her servants were at and her firstborn son, Joffrey was currently waiting for them. 

The Queen intended for her three children to spend some time together since so far these three were a little estranged. The seven year old watched as his mother entered the playroom holding his siblings hands. The young crown prince was playing with a few toys when Queen Cersei made her way next to him. 

“Joffrey would you be alright if your little brother and sister played with you?” she asked. 

The crown prince seemed a little hesitant but nodded his head willingly. Queen Cersei smiled and encouraged her two youngest to play as they released their hands from the Queen and sat next to Joffrey. The room was moderately quiet as the Queen chatted with some of her handmaidens as her children played. Alycilles picked up a wooden toy figure painted like a kingsguard knight, while Saphira was playing with a doll brushing its fake hair, and Joffrey was playing with a wooden knight of his own but more worn with a broken leg and splintered wood. The twins seem to be having fun, while Joffrey was growing jealous that his little brother was in possession of the better toy knight, and his expression changed into a scowl watching his kid brother having fun with his toy. 

Queen Cersei was distracted speaking with a servant otherwise she would have seen what was happening between her two sons. Alycilles was silently having fun when Joffrey walked up. The second prince stopped playing with the toy and looked up to his elder brother wondering what he wanted.

“I want that one. Trade me” prince Joffrey says in a child-like commanding tone. The younger brother simply shook his head as he continued to play with his toy knight. The crown prince seemed to be displeased at this as he attempted to snatch the toy from his five year old brother, reaching over his shoulder trying to snatch the wooden knight away.

Prince Alycilles gripped it hard as he and Joffrey played a game of tug a war with the toy. “Give it to me” Joffrey screamed.

“NO” Alycilles screamed back. Though Joffrey was older and bigger, the young Alycilles was small yet stronger, keeping a firm grip on the wooden knight. Saphira stood up shouting, “stop it, stop it, your spoiling it” but it fell on deaf ears. 

The Queen soon found her attention on her two sons and began to run over to the fighting boys. 

Before she could make her way to them and calm their anger, the wooden toy snapped into two halves causing Joffrey to fall backwards hitting his head on the floor while Alycilles stumbled a little but held his footing. 

All the servants in the room found themselves quiet, staring at the families exchange as the Queen tried to console her boy, but Joffrey having grown mad, ignored his queen mother, peeling his face away from her reach as he threw the wooden piece he held at his brother. 

The wooden piece hit the younger prince between his eyes with a smack nearly putting one out as Joffrey threw the thing with all the strength he could muster. 

Prince Alycilles gave out a small yelp, feeling for his head as the pain made him squint his eyes. 

He held his tears back and didn’t cry but turned towards his brother and threw the wooden half he held back at the crown prince. It hit Joffrey between the eyes as his younger brother tossed it with all his strength even managing to nail his brother in the same spot as he fell back into his mother's grasp. Prince Joffrey began to sniffle as he felt the middle of his face with his little hand as a small stain of red appeared on his finger. The Queen looked down to her cowering son checking on his injury. There was a cut in the bridge of his nose right between his eyes as tears mixed with the blood causing it to flow like a river. “Go get a maester” she commanded a nearby servant.

As she watched them all move into action she turned to her youngest boy who was standing there, face pointed down cowering from the lionesses stare. “Look at me” she says her voice, strict, and demanding. He lifted his head up slowly, facing the Queen of all of Westeros. The princess Saphira was a few feet away watching the two of them, wondering if her mother was going to punish her brother. The Queen eyed her son, her lips pressed at the little boy waited for her to speak. 

“Don’t ever hurt your brother in any way again” she finally says. 

“But he started it” the young prince began to way in, his face snapping up to meet hers. She saw something in his eyes at that moment as they glared back at her. A small fire that she thought she imagined played out within his marvelous marbles as her words were caught in her throat. She had to swallow before she spoke once more.

“I don’t care, just don’t do it again” she says. She left with the maester to see her son, leaving the young Prince Alycilles and the Princess Saphira alone together.

Alycilles was on the verge of tears as he stood there alone in the abandoned playroom his anger subsiding as he was left to the pesterment of his emotions. he didn't understand why his mother didn't scold Joff as well since he was the first to cause the spat. He soon started sniffling but was stopped when he felt a pair of arms wrap themselves around him. His sister was there hugging him, her silvery golden hair falling over him as it became indistinguishable from his own as she started comforting him rubbing his hair like their mother does, soothing the sad prince. He embraced her back as they stayed like that for some time.

289AC:

After the strife between the two brothers began to escalate and the King and Queen arguing with what they were to do with the squabbling brothers, that was when King Robert decided it would be best if their son, Alycilles, be fostered by some lord. Robert had it in his mind to send his son to the North which the Queen seemed to perceive. Cersei was reliant on only seeing this happen if her father, Tywin Lannister, fostered their son. The King agreed to this most likely to end the debate with his wife allowed it, and so Prince Alycilles was set to leave for Casterly Rock. 

The young prince was quite upset with this, not wanting to leave the kingdom and halting his training, and threw quite the tantrum giving true to the words ‘Ours is The Fury’. The young prince went to the man he was a squire for, Ser Barristan Selmy, and pleaded for the knight to accompany him to The Rock. 

The old Knight went before the king, and on one knee, petitioned to accompany the prince arguing that his training was progressing well and it would be a waste to halt it now. Hearing this the king felt a respectful knight like Ser Barristan had the best for his son in his heart, and decided to allow the knight his request. And so the prince said his goodbyes. 

A quick chatted one with his father. 

And a teary eyed one from the Queen as she kissed her sons cheeks, hugging him long like a mother already missing her child. 

After, he and his sister embraced as well saying their farewells. The princess told him she was going to be thinking of him everyday giving his small pecks on his cheeks, to which the prince expressed the same. He left Kings Landing midday with an entourage of just under one hundred people with the Westerlands in their sight. 

It took a few weeks on the road as they ventured to Casterly Rock. the young prince and his household members, making up of servants and guards, and sons of other lords to accompany the prince. The young prince would peer out of his carriage looking onto the unfamiliar lands he’s come to visit. They passed by many rugged lands and rolling plains. They got to see the fertile green lands, the blue lakes and rivers of the westerlands, and even spotted a couple of caves. The prince wondered if he’d see a live lion on their way.

His mother had told him about Casterly Rock and what to expect of the place, but to see the place in person as the sun gleamed on the rock made the place look like it was actual gold. The young prince, his eyes capturing The Rock thought it was the most majestic castle he saw. He, and his entourage along with the kingsguard knight, Ser Barristan Selmy, made their way into Lannisport traveling through the Lion's Mouth. The golden lion carved as the entrance into The Rock seems to stare down at Alycilles. As they made their way into the darkness of its bite he thought the lion itself would come to life and devour him whole. 

That was when his nerves started to rile up as he thought of what came next. Meeting his grandfather. The Lion himself, Tywin Lannister.

This was also the first time he would be meeting the Lannister side of his family. Their carriage had made it pass the Lion’s Mouth and was following the throat as they made their way fully into The Rock. 

The young prince as he looked up towards the rocky ceiling imagined the ceiling falling atop of him at any second, burying him alive but dispelled the thought soon after. They came to a stop to what looked to be the main entrance to the great stronghold as many of its inhabitants were visibly gathering around as his carriage came to a halt. 

A couple of servants came to the side where the prince was sitting and opened the door for him as he stepped out, the small cape strapped to his doublet flowing through the air as he casually hopped down to the red carpeted floor. The seat of House Lannister was marvelous when one got a look at its interior. The aesthetic was more grand than that of the Red Keep. 

The floor had a red carpet splayed out covering most of the rocky ground leading to the main hall. The young prince could feel his heartbeat and the sweat on his hands build up. Ser Barristan stood beside the young boy looking down at him while the young prince looked up to him. “It’s time my prince” the knight says with a reassuring smile. This gave Alycilles a little confidence as he walked forward with his household party trailing behind them. 

As he got closer the prince was able to see the Lannister household in full. He eyed them as they all had their eyes on him, like lions judging a new member of the pack. The interest in the second prince was among most of the Lannisters having heard stories of the boy and his unique appearance but now they were fully able to examine this silver prince. 

He could see a couple of smiles from them, the women mostly, while some of the other lords seem to be sizing him up. Even some of the children present had an interest in their princely relative. The prince stopped his pace as he came face to face with the man himself, Tywin Lannister, lord of Casterly Rock, and Warden of the West, and his grandfather. 

The man was tall, towering over the young boy as he had to tilt his head up as he stood in front of the man. A sudden memory of his mother's words came to him. _When confronting the old lion, never waver within his gaze or you’ll deem yourself as only food for him._ With that the prince kept his eyes locked on the man as he spoke even as his eyes twitched to blink. 

“Uh, hello grandfather” he says bowing remembering his courtesies. The old lion looked down at him, studying the the first child of his daughter that he's personally met. 

“Prince Alycilles, welcome to Casterly Rock. I hope your trip here was to your liking” the old lion says. 

“It was alright. Casterly Rock is very beautiful. A splendid castle.” Prince Alycilles says. 

“Oh, and how many castles have you seen my prince?” Lord Tywin asked. “Well, just the Red Keep really, but I doubt anywhere else comes close to this place” he responded with childlike enthusiasm. This brought a couple of chuckles around the crowd. The lion lord himself had a small smirk across his face as he turned to introduce the rest of the members of House Lannister. 

“My prince, allow me to introduce Kevin Lannister, my brother.” Kevan walked forward giving a slight bow as he looked upon his nephew. 

“It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance my prince. Allow me to introduce my wife Lady Dorna Swyft.” The lady had the blonde hair of a Lannister and some beauty to match. 

She gave a curtsy as she greeted the prince. The lady Swyft grabbed ahold of a boy a little taller than the prince and presented him. “This is our son, Lancel. We hope you two can get along well with each other as cousins” she says. The prince eyed the boy who took a quick glance at him than averted his eyes to the floor a second after. 

Next Tywin introduced the rest of his siblings, starting with his sister, Genna Lannister. She was a shapely woman, thick and curvy with a set of bosoms that looked like they would fall out of her bodice. She gave young Alycilles a huge hug as his face was buried into her bust. “Well aren’t you a handsome thing. You must get that beautiful face of yours from Cersei” she says poking a single finger to the tip of his nose. 

The young prince felt himself blushing as he felt his stomach stirring up. “Thank you aunt Genna” he says trying to hold back his face from turning red. The lady Lannister gave him a sweet giggle, “you don’t have to be shy around me child. I’ll make sure you feel right at home while you're here.” 

Her words seem to put him at ease as a sense of comfort was established for the young prince. Next a man stepped forwards wearing an extravagant set of clothes, the colors of red and gold covering his body. He had curly golden locks and the green eyes of a Lannister. 

He gave a dramatic bow tipping his front foot forward placing his left hand upon his right pec as he waved his right arm outwards as his bangs drooped down. “My dear nephew, welcome to our ancestral home of Casterly Rock” he says in a speech like manner. 

Prince Alycilles managed to hold back a giggle but still gave him a smile. “I am your greatest of uncles, Gerion Lannster, at your service” he says. 

“A pleasure to meet you uncle” the prince says. 

After meeting some more of the Lannister household, lord Tywin showed his young grandson to the room he would be staying at. It was quite the room with more than enough space that the young prince would need. After putting some of his stuff away, he shortly made his way to his bed and rested for the night. 

289AC: Greyjoy Rebellion

Lannisport was an incredible city. The markets had many delicacies that were different from the streets of Kings Landing. The young prince raced through the streets being followed closely by some guards and Ser Barristan Selmy. Alycilles made stops at many stores throughout Lannisport being recognized as a prince managing to obtain free goods from giving merchants. As he walked around, sometimes skipping across the cobblestones, he noticed something that caught his attention. 

The Lannister fleet. A marvelous site consisting of about thirty ships. Their sails were large and had the mighty lion of Lannister embroidered across them. He saw men aboard the ship doing boat things the young prince couldn’t quite understand but watch on anyways. Ser Barristan suddenly made his way to the prince's side. “Incredible aren’t they?” he says.

“Yes, do you think we can go see one up close?” the prince asked. 

He was hesitant at first but saw no harm in it, “Very well” the old knight says. 

Alycilles smiled and began to run towards the docks passing Ser Barristan as he ran down the stairs and towards the ships. 

The kingsguard knight began to follow Alycilles when something out of the corner of his eye caught his attention. Through the thick fog there was a light, yellow and growing bigger as he watched on. There was a flash and then an explosion as a nearby ship exploded resulting in wooden frames flying in every direction aflamed. 

The young prince’s eyes widened, hot air smacking him in the face as debris flew and crashed all around him. The prince looked out at the ships. They were on fire, red with flames as he could hear men screaming as some jump overboard making splashes in the waters of the summer sea. Before he could even react something in the fog appeared, coming into existence like it was never there from the start. The ship was big and painted black with the sail of a kraken whipping through the fog. The prince felt confused. He recognized the sigil but didn’t know why he would see it here of all places. _Why was a Greyjoy ship all the way over here? Why are they attacking us?_ He thought.

He didn’t move or at least he didn’t try. He was simply trapped in his gaze as more and more of his family's fleet of ships were destroyed as boom after boom came from the vessels. He was horrified. It was almost unimaginable to him as he watched. 

His eyes flinched when he saw golden armor appear before him. Ser Barristan looked down at the prince speaking something to him that the boy couldn’t make out. Barristan looked at the startled prince as more and more of the vessels were caught aflame. He pulled the boy dragging him as they ran determined to head back into The Rock. 

The common folk were running around screaming, women carrying off their children as they wailed in their arms. He saw men gathering their arms running with swords, axes, and shields. Lannister soldiers were running towards the wharf where Greyjoy men were coming ashore. Ser Barristan and some other guards were escorting the prince as Lannisport all around them was glowing bright orange. As they ran, cannon fire erupted again blowing buildings to tinders cutting off more and more paths for them to escape. 

Bodies were lining the grounds of the city. Fighting could be heard as steel on steel grew louder and louder the longer they lingered. 

“Ser Barristan, what’s happening?” the terrified prince asked his kingsguard protector. The old knight looked towards the docks and saw as more and more ships came into sight. He studied the sails easily recognizing the sigil they were flying. 

“Let’s get back into Casterly Rock first my prince” Ser Barristan says as he pushes the young prince towards his family's ancestral home. This would soon be pointless as more cannon fire from the Greyjoy vessels blew away the buildings and roads near them. The prince was caught in a blast being sent flying away and separated from his kingsguard protector.

He was out cold being blown into a nearby building that had parts on fire and parts destroyed from the cannon fire. Ser Barristan shouted out to the prince but gained no response. The flames formed a type of wall between the two rising higher than the knight stood. Any hope the knight had at looking for the prince was short lived as he found himself soon face to face with ironmen. He drew his sword to face these new foes, swearing to himself that he would save his young squire. 

The floor was hot. The air was hot, and thick with smoke making it hard to breathe. 

Prince Alycilles snapped back to consciousness as he awoke into a coughing storm. His head was hurting and he had no clear idea where he was at and what was truly happening. He looked around himself. He was surrounded by fire crackling as it burned with intensity. They seem to cut off all of his paths, all except one in front of him that led through a blown hole within the buildings wall. The fire itself seems to want him to follow the path. 

Alycilles felt something telling him to go and make a run for it. And that's what he did. He ran as fast as his legs would let him even with his body in pain. _I have to find Ser Barristan and get home_ he thought as he ran. 

As he made his way out the burning building he could hear the wood splinter and break from losing its support beams. He turned his head and looked back to see the building collapse on itself. _That was almost me._ He looked around him. 

Lannisport was basically a ghost town with not a soul in sight. The prince made his way to what he thought was a main street and began to shout for Ser Barristan. “Ser Barristan, where are you?” he would scream out. 

There weren't even sounds of battle from what the prince could hear. He would run and run not truly knowing where he was going, just following the flames. As he went on he would frantically look back and forth for any signs of someone he could call for help. As he ran though, he failed to notice the man standing in his direction staring down the young prince. The ash and smoke clouded his vision causing him to squint his eyes. 

Through the smoke he saw a figure, tall and broad, and seeming to be wearing armor. Alycilles couldn’t tell who the man was and ran to him hoping it was someone friendly. 

As he came within a close range of this person his eyes widened as his legs slowed down from running to a cold walk. The smoke shrouding the man seemed to be blown away by the wind just as the prince was a few feet from the man. He got a good look at the person who stood unfamiliar to him. 

“Who are-you?” he asked the man. 

The unknown man was tall, had long black hair, and an eyepatch covering one eye. He stared down at the boy with a wicked grin across his face, his blue lips curling as the whiskers on his face furrowed. 

“I’m the drowned god” the man says, his voice sinister and scratchy. 

The young prince didn’t know what he meant and was simply scared and wanted to get away from the man as fast as he could. He began to pray for his father or his mother to appear and save him. When it clicked in his mind that it wasn’t going to happen, his body began to shake all over starting with his legs. 

He felt like he was about to slump to the ground and did his best to steady his shaking legs from going limp. As he looked up at the man, the fear he felt just from looking at him grew. Without even thinking he turned his back to him and tried to flee but found his legs only kicking up dirt. 

The man had grabbed him, holding on tightly to his red jerkins. The man pulled Alycilles dragging his feet through the dirt as his boots grew dirty with ash. 

“And where do you think you are going silver prince?” the man says almost mockingly. The prince looked up to him not hiding his shocked expression to the man.

“I know...who you are. You're my ticket to becoming king of this forsaken world” the man said his tone sharp and cold with a seriousness to it that the prince held his tongue, for this was a moment he couldn’t feign.

The man began to laugh, a cackle more so as he seemed to enjoy the look the young prince of Westeros was displaying. It sent shivers down the boys' spine and for once in his life, he felt fear come over him. He lifted the boy and threw him over his shoulders roughly. He tried to fight, do anything that could free him from this man's grip, but the man was strong and held him tight. 

“Let me go. HELP. SIR BARRISTAN” he shouted to which the man just laughed some more. 

“No point in screaming for help now. My men have this port surrounded. And now we stumbled across our prize. Well my prize, that is” the one eyed man said. 

Alycilles could only listen to the man as he spoke. His attention was turned to the noise around him as he heard feet marching is way. He tried to worm his way out of the man's grip again thinking that help had finally arrived. 

The one eyed man’s calm demeanor made the prince think otherwise as he soon learned that it was his men that had in fact showed up. 

“Alright men. We’ve found our bounty and laid siege to our high monarchs ancestral home. Now back to the ships” he shouted to which the soldiers cheered and did as he commanded. 

Just as the man continued to walk in the direction of the shore, the roaring of screaming men caught everyone's attention as Lannister soldiers came rushing down the street, swords drawn as they came into fighting with the ironmen. At that moment the young prince felt a little bit of hope light within him. On top of that he saw Ser Barristan among the men who came to meet his captors. 

“SER BARRISTAN” he tried to shout out through the clashing of steel. Somehow whether through instinct or from the help of the seven, the golden knight spotted the silver prince being carried off. The old knight in that moment looked to have grown younger, cutting through many of the Ironborn as he grew closer and closer to the prince. “PRINCE ALYCILLES” he shouted.

Each time he would cut someone down another would take their place halting his progress. As he did this the one eyed man looked back and laughed. “Is that your body guard. Not very good at his job” he cackled. Ser Barristan could only watch as the prince was taken aboard the ship and disappeared within the clouds of mist and smoke. 

  
  
  



	2. Prologue II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With the Greyjoy rebellion in full, Alycilles counts the days as he lingers on the brink of survival.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Part II of the prologue. Had to make some changes that fit the narrative timeline i'm trying to set.

News of the burning of Lannisport was spreading fast, but no other news burned fast across Westeros like the one about the second prince, Alycilles, was abducted. Raven’s have been flying all around Westeros with the demands of Balon Greyjoy, while the ironborn used the advantage they gained to begin their attack raiding the coast starting with Seaguard. 

When the news reached King's Landing, the King and Queen were both enraged. For once the two had come together through their desire to have the Greyjoys wiped out for this treason. The lion Queen was calling for the heads of every Greyjoy while the stag King was calling for his allies including his old friend, Eddard Stark, the Quiet Wolf. Soon the forces of the Iron Throne were gathering, Robert calling on to his brother, Stannis, and as master of ships, joined the Redwyne’s as they formed the royal fleet. With their counterattack ongoing and the King gathering his forces of Ned Stark and Tywin lannister. The forces of the Iron throne were on their way to settle Balon’s foolish rebellion, and retake the prince of the seven kingdoms. 

While all this was happening the young silver prince was in his captivity suffering at the hands of his Greyjoy captors. His cell was cold and wet and dark. It's been sometime since the young prince had arrived at the grey waste that is the Iron Islands. When Alycilles first stepped foot on the rocky island, he found his feet stepping in the wet, muddy ground leaving his boots mucky. 

His feet would sink a few feet into the mud causing him to have to use some force to pull his feet from its clutches. He examined the kingdom he was brought too, tall grey buildings matching the murky atmosphere of the place. There was a storm raging, rain wetting his face as he was being dragged on by the man with the eyepatch, who he had learned was a man named Euron Greyjoy. Alycilles had been quiet the whole ride to the Iron islands, avoiding the eyes of anyone and keeping his head down. And he did so still as he was brought before the lord of the Iron Islands, Balon Greyjoy. 

His throne room was empty, and as gray as he stood before the lord, his clothes soaking wet, his hair sticking to his face, and as he looked at the lord, a scowl formed across his face. The lord of Pyke looked down at the boy, his regal clothing having dirt and ash stained on them, and even some seaweed clutching to his boots. He then looked to his brother, the one eyed man looking on with glee in his eye as he grew a wide grin. “What have you brought before me.” 

The prince watched as the one eyed man walked around him, his black long coat flapping as he walked. “I have brought before you brother, the child of the false king and queen. Alycilles Baratheon” he says. Balon’s expression didn’t change as he looked unamused by his brother. 

“And why have you brought me the second prince. What worth is he too me if he’s not the crown prince?” he asked. 

Euron simply shrugged his arms out, “prince, crown prince, it doesn’t matter as long as we can take advantage of it for our cause. It’s said the Queen loves her children. Some say they love this one here the most. Currently in our position. We have the sway over them. Send a raven detailing our demands, let them know their child is at our mercy and if they want to see him back again alive, they'll submit to our will” he says. 

As Alycilles listened to him speak, his fear as to what will happen to him grew. He thought he was going to be a prisoner for the rest of his life here. The lord of Pyke simply thought about it before he looked to one of his guards. “Take the boy to one of the cells.” He then looked to his one eyed brother. “Well speak on this matter later.”

And here he was sitting on the wet floors, still in his dirty jerkins and trousers with his mind racing through his head. He wondered how his family was doing. He wondered if his sister was worried for him. He knew she would be. He could practically feel her emotions through himself. His father crossed his mind and even his brother. He thought of his mother. He knew her well enough to know she would be in a reckless fury. 

When Alycilles was playing with some children in the gardens of the Red Keep, the Queen witnessed a child around the same age as the prince push him to the ground during their frolicing. A couple days later, Alycilles heard whispers from handmaidens saying the boy was missing and was later found with both of his hands cut off. 

The boy's father was a minor lord who had no evidence this was the doing of the Queen but could only accept it as a mercy that his boy wasn’t found as a feast for the crows. The seven only know what she’ll want done to the Greyjoys.

Every now and then a girl he didn’t know would bring him food to eat which at times Alycilles didn't, only deciding to do so when his stomach started to hurt and the growling of it would keep him up. The girl would say, “don’t worry. If we wanted you dead, we wouldn’t poison you like some Dornish.”

Sometimes when he wouldn’t expect it, the one eyed man would come to him with the girl. They would ask the prince some questions, things he couldn’t possibly know and would even torture him a number a times. The girl would engage in his torture as well playing what she called a game in which she would induce drowning the boy and reviving him before he died. He could never tell if he had tears or salt water on his face. Whenever he came back to consciousness she would let out a deranged laugh as the prince would vomit out water. 

It was almost too much to him to take at times causing him to think he would snap. Thinking back to his mentor, Ser Barristan would bring him courage when he was on the brink. When his heart was heavy with grief and he felt his tears flowing, the old knights words helped him persevere. 

After what seemed like days with no sign of his captors and with the little bread he had left, he began to wonder if they had forgotten him. He didn’t know if he actually wanted to be left their in that cell with no worries of torture and threats, or be checked up on just so someone knew he was still alive. 

Footsteps though broke the thought as he could hear commotion from behind the door. He stood up, one hand leaning on the wall to help him keep balance as he watched the door to his cell open with a hard swing. 

The man who stood there was someone the prince had come to know. Victarion Greyjoy, another brother to the lord of Pyke. The prince tried to back away further, but he found his back already pressed against the walls of his black cell. 

“Because of you, a lot of trouble has been brought upon us boy. Euron and his damn ambitions” he said. The man said nothing after. He simply began to walk towards the boy, but the prince’s mind was racing with every way this situation could turn. He also noticed that the man forgot to close the door behind him. As he got closer, not noticing the prince's eyes were focused on something else, he reached out for him but the young boy was fast and nimble as he swooped down under the Greyjoys legs, kicking his own fast as he made for the door. Victarion was quick in his own response but by the time he made it to the door, he was face to face with wet wood. The young boy had made it to the door and mustered the strength to close it and lock it. 

“Damn you boy, you’ll pay for this. I swear it on the drowned god” he shouts. Alycilles didn’t take the time to stay there and hear him talk as he made his way towards the stairs out of the dungeons. 

He ran through many halls, avoiding the areas he could hear soldiers at. The castle felt like a maze to him, causing him to run back and forth through areas he's been in already. 

He kept on running and hiding, sometimes staying in a single spot, his nerves not allowing him to move, until he heard a storm of noise coming from outside. 

He saw a window nearby and dragged a bench to the wall, lifted himself on top of it and peered his eyes outside. 

He could see ships far off in the sea close to the Iron islands. Men were storming off the ships steadily making their way to meet the Greyjoy forces. The prince felt a sense of relief. _This must be my father's army. He’s come for me at last,_ he thought. He jumped off the bench and ran out the room, eager to meet his father and go home. He soon came upon a door which he hoped led outside, and when he pushed it open, he found the sounds of battle clear to his ears. 

The sounds of battle rung all around him. He saw men everywhere engaged in combat, some wearing armor he was familiar with, like the golden plated armor of the gold cloaks. 

He wondered if his uncle was within this rabble of men. A loud boom rung to his side as he looked and saw a tall tower crumbling in on itself as it fell forward. 

He stayed low, running towards the breach in the wall where his father's forces were coming in from. He saw a man with a flaming sword running around. He watched as they clashed with the ironmen. As he laid there he could hear the sloshing of footsteps just behind him. He turned his head to see the man, Victarion standing there before him. 

“Found you boy” he said with anger in his tone. 

The man was clearly enraged, two axes in his hands and eyes of red staring down at the boy. Alycilles stood up fast nearly slipping in the mud and ran towards armies of the iron throne. 

No one seemed to notice the small boy on the battlefield as he neared close to him swerving all around him with Victarion on his trail. _I have to find my father,_ he thought as he kept up his running until he felt a force grab a hold of his hair tightly pulling him back. 

“Damn brat, I'll make sure your father gets you back in pieces. Damn what my brother desires” he shouts.

He lifted his axe in the air ready to bring it down on the prince's head. The prince in a split second before it was too late found his hand clutching a sword buried in the mud. He didn’t think and just acted as the instinct to survive flooded his body. 

He raised the sword, a short one that the prince was easily able to manage and blocked the man's strike. His arms felt the heavy blow come down on him as his sword gave way. Victarion's strike was shifted away from the boy as the young prince brought the sword back up even as his arms and hands vibrated. 

Alycilles stepped back a little but Greyjoy started to move on him, handling his axes in his hand as he swung. The prince dodged them, swaying left and right as his eyes stayed focused on the man's swinging. 

He was predictable and only moved with one intent which the prince was able to read easily. Things weren't really in his favor as the man had most of the advantage with the prince only having some decent training. He figured he could get a strike in when the man went in for an attack. 

As Victarion brought his axe back, the prince side stepped and dodged it bringing his own sword for the man's plate armor hoping he could pierce it. His focus was cut when he saw Greyjoy bringing his other axe around and nearly slicing the boy's arm in two. The prince screamed as he held his arm, his hand felt the liquid streaming from his cut, and winced at the pain. 

The cut wasn’t deep but it was going to be needing some tending too. “Stings doesn’t it stag brat. Don’t worry I have something that will relieve the pain” the man said. 

He swung his axe to which the prince dodged but just barely. The prince turned to face him, his sword held up high as he stood his ground. “So little stag. Have some fight still in you” the man bluntly stated. 

With fighting happening all around them, the two circled each other, staring one another down. The young prince was nervous and his arm hurt, but he had to focus or he was dead. 

“PRINCE ALYCILLES” he suddenly heard a voice shout out. The prince turned his head and saw Ser Barristan, and his uncle, Ser Jaime charging towards him. The prince would have wept if he didn’t feel the hard plate of a gauntlet smack across his face. It stung but he held the tears back taking a swing at Victarion with his short sword in hand. 

He thought back to the days of his training. He swung his sword colliding with the kraken axe somehow holding his own, giving enough time for his mentor and uncle to arrive by his side. Victarion seemed to notice this as well as he quickly turned his attention towards them ignoring the prince. 

Jaime came first, swinging his sword at Greyjoys head. “Get away from my nephew you cunt” he shouts. The young lion was quick, holding his own against the kraken man. They were fast almost like a blur but the Greyjoy was fighting dirty, kicking up mud at Jaime’s face blinding him. 

As Jaime was tending to his eyes Ser Barristan stepped up quickly taking his fellow kingsguards place as he engaged Victarion. Barristan Selmy was holding his own even looking to be the better fighter. 

Alycilles watched as the veteran knight clashed with steel against steel as sparks flew from them. Jaime rejoined the skirmish taking over whenever Barristsan fell out. As he watched his own fury within him began to build as he watched those he cared for struggle against this madman, who seemed to be reveling in the battle. As they fought the prince went unnoticed as he circled them, making his way to the krakens back. 

While Ser Barristan was engaged in combat, his blows were parried by the man. The prince found his opening and swiped at Greyjoys heel, causing him to fall to a single knee. Victarion snarled, swinging his axe not even looking at who struck him, completely missing the prince as he swiftly circled the man giving him another quick cut to his other heel abruptly stopping the man. Greyjoy was getting sloppy, and the prince saw this taking advantage as he flooded his hand with blood from his bloody wound and rained it in his eyes. It blinded him, Alycilles not giving Victarion any chance to counter. 

As he saw Victarion reeling over his eyes, Alycilles saw this as the chance to end this nightmare. He charged at the man, screaming whatever warcry that the young boy could muster. His screams though seem to have alerted Victarion as he seemed to quickly recover, his vision slightly returning, as he took a chance and swung the back of his hand. The backhand came into contact with the prince's lip busting it sending him flying to the ground. Jaime had gotten back to his feet by now, rushing to his nephew's side. He rushed his shoulder into Victarion’s back, pushing the man away from his nephew. The battles around them were growing more fierce and ending fast but their resolve didn’t break. 

The prince was getting tired. His breathing was growing harder and harder. Adrenaline was steadily slowing down within him, and he felt pain all over his body. He saw his uncle with his mouth open breathing hard as well. He was hoping that his famed uncle would finish this man off already so he could rest, but it seems that everytime he wished for something, it didn’t come. The storm above their heads was raging as thunder boomed every minute lighting up the dark sky with flashes as they all fought upon falling raindrops. 

The Kingslayer was on the defense, blocking and parrying the Greyjoys' strikes until Victarion locked steel with Jaime's sword. The two struggle as they were in a stalemate, both gritting their teeth until Victarion pulled his hands down, disarming the kingsguard.

Jaime was slightly stunned as Victarion swiped at his legs bringing the young lion to the muddy ground. As he looked up at Victarion knelt down, wincing at the pain of his knees nearly cut to ribbons by the prince.

He grabbed Jaimes hair, pulling his head back as he displayed his neck to him.

Victarion grinned as he held his kraken axe up and lined it with Jaimes neck. Jaime simply closed his eyes and waited for the blood to spill from his throat. 

He felt liquid paint his face.

But there was no pain.

He opened his eyes and saw a blade bathed in blood sticking through Victarion's throat. He suddenly lost his grip as his axe fell to the mud. He then slumped over, his body joining his fallen axe as the mud made a smacking noise as his body hit the mud. 

The young lion saw as his nephew stood there his hands trembling as he eyed his uncle. 

Jaime had a stunned look on his face as he simply stared at his nephew who looked like he was on the verge of breaking down. 

Suddenly around them, men started cheering as some had seen the battle that was going on between them. Jaime looked around him as some of the ironborn were fleeing at the sight of their fallen lord as some of the men started chanting the prince's name. Alycilles looked down at the dead Greyjoy. The bloody sword plunged through his throat as his life's blood drained onto the muddy ground. 

He didn’t remember attacking.

Just a sudden fury.

And red.

The prince slowly fell forward, his spent body losing whatever will he had to stay conscious. Jaime caught him in time before he could hit the ground and pretty much passed out in his uncles arms. The man looked down at his nephew, with intrigue in his eyes as he thought to himself. _What kind of man will you become Alycilles? I hope it will be a better one than me._

Ser Barristan soon made his way to Jaime’s side, taking his time to see if the young prince was alright. He was out cold, but was breathing. The old knight smiled at his squire.

 _His first battle_ he thought.

He awoke suddenly to the familiar ceiling of a room. The red ceiling of Casterly Rock looking back at him. His body was sore and he could barely move. He tried to sit up but a hand appeared on his shoulders, slowly pushing him back to the bed.

“Rest now my little nephew” a feminine voice said. The young prince turned his head slightly, a little pain came with it and he saw his Aunt Genna looking down on him, eye of green casting their gaze. “What happened to me?” the tired boy asked. “You've been here, resting since the battle. Your uncle Jaime brought you here. Once you're fully rested, you’ll be returning to King's Landing. The Queens orders” she said. 

“But. I don’t want to leave yet” he says looking a little sad. She smiled down on him rubbing some of his hair away from his eyes. 

She stared at him. The blue and green colors staring back, very defined colors that one couldn’t help but look at. The Lannister lady was mesmerized by them. “I thought I was dead,” Alycilles says, his tone soft. “No my sweet, you're alive, and from what I heard you made quite the show out there. The men have taken the liberty of calling you The Avenger now. Alycilles The Avenger” she says with a joyful ring to her tone. The young prince looked back at the ceiling, going over the name in his head. _Alycilles The Avenger_ he thought. He smiled as he drifted off back to sleep. 

After the Greyjoy rebellion was foiled it would soon be known as another name, The War For the Silver Stag, given that name after King Robert offered a large amount of silver and gold for the safe return of his son to which Jaime Lannister won but didn’t claim saying, he didn’t do it for the money. 

The prince upon returning home to King’s Landing was treated like a hero as the tale of his heroics had quickly spread far across Westeros. The Queen mother showered him in affection, having been in a state of grief that her child was away from her for so long in turmoil. The young prince seemed to be taking being back home well but he would soon find himself plagued with a new horror. night terrors would plague him, putting him through fits of screaming throughout his sleep. 

The guards would burst into his room expecting to find intruders, but saw only a boy in deep sweats with tears on his cheeks. The memory of his torture at the hands of the Greyjoys and the fighting, killing, and blood was taking its toll on his mind. The Queen mother had to stay by his side for days soothing him in her arms, making sure her young lion had a peaceful sleep, even though she was soon to give birth. There were times when the queen couldn’t calm him down as the boy would throw quite a fit, lashing out at anyone who tried to calm him. Even some of the handmaidens feared to be near him. It was his twin sister, Saphira who was the only one who could calm him down. She would stay with her brother throughout many nights, sleeping in his bed with him as she would wrap her arms around him, rubbing the tears from his face and singing his favorite songs to him. 

The Queen herself would monitor her son but it would always be her daughter to sooth his terrors. She noticed that they were together more and more lately but she couldn’t look into it as she had just given birth to a baby boy, the Prince Tommen Baratheon and had not too long ago had a baby girl, Myrcella Baratheon. 

297AC:

Over the years as the prince grew his interest began to vary from subject to subject with his number one being swordsmanship. Wielding the sword, he quickly passed the stage of a novice squire and was fastly becoming adept and felt the need to spread his arsenal. He soon took on the spear practicing with his uncle Jaime, and Ser Barristan until he felt comfortable with the level he was at. He would then move on to another weapon like the short sword, learning to be swift and fast with the weapon. Out of curiosity of his father's style, he took on the hammer as well, finding it needing lots of strength use.

When he wasn’t practicing with the sword, he would explore Kings Landing, wanting to see more of the city he’s been growing up in. He would have about four gold cloaks along with Ser Barristan following him closely. He would play with them, running off and avoiding them as he would ramble across the Street of Sisters coming to face a building, an odd building that stood out from the rest. The building was painted blood red and had a great big door painted black. He didn’t know why he stopped running, but he found his attention and wondered about this place. 

He slowly made his way to it, grabbing for a handle as he slowly opened it. As he entered the building and closed the door behind him, he saw he was in a single hallway leading to a door. On each side of the walls hung banners of a heart engulfed in flames.

He walked down the hallway lit by torches as he came to the door. This time he was a little hesitant in his grasp. He didn’t know why he was drawn to such a place. But any thought of turning around left his mind. Even if he wanted to move he felt as if his body wouldn't let him. He swallowed the lump in his throat and opened the door, walking through. The room was in the shape of a circle, had torches all around lighting the room dimly, and had many different doors all around. 

He found himself casually walking around unaware of the presence that was with him. A woman wearing a long red dress made herself known. “Welcome my prince” she says. Alycilles turned to the woman, somewhat surprised. “Who are you?” he asked. 

She smiled. “I am a simple servant of light. One who is here to guide you, your grace” she says. The women had long dark hair that curled at the ends. Her blood red dress revealed her bosom making the young prince feel funny. The one thing about her that intrigued him the most was the red stone embedded within the neck choker she wore.

It glowed bright red dancing within the flames calling for the prince. “You’ve come here for a reason my prince. Do you know why?” she asked. 

“No, I don't,” he says with true ignorance. 

“What do you know of the lord of light, young prince?” she asked. 

“I only know of the seven” he responds back with. 

“Yes the seven gods. But they are not the only ones. There are also the old gods, but they are not only gods. There is the one true god” she says. 

The prince didn’t know exactly what she was talking about but it somewhat interested him. “Who is this true god?” he asked. The red woman smiled, her lips of red curling accentuating her face's beauty. “The lord of light. Also known as R’hllor” she says. 

With that the prince began to frequently visit this temple of the red lady learning little by little from her about this Lord of light and the ways of their kind. 

As the years went on the young boy began to experience more and more of the Westerosi lifestyle. One sport of his people that he wanted to take part in for some time now was a Tourney. During a tourney being held by the King in honor of his daughter, Princess Myrcella’s name day, the young prince decided it was finally time he put the training two of Westeros’ finest knights have been instilling in him.

Since being home, he has been trying to hone his skills of swordplay even more now, sometimes even training with Ser Barristan for entire days. His mother found it an obsession. His father said it was his true Stag coming out. Ever since returning, the prince wanted to become stronger. He never wanted to be put into a situation like with the Greyjoys ever again. He told himself he needed to become stronger and needed strength to make it happen.

During the tourney the young boy found himself winning the archery contest, the jousting contest, and even coming in third during the melee. Those who watched him said he looked like a whole different person fighting like a young Robert in a way. The prince showed skills and strength unlike anyone at his age, amazing everyone who watched the tourney that day. After all was said and done, the king marched down from his seat and stood before his son. He drew a sword and knighted his son right then and there. Prince Alycilles became the youngest knight that day at the age of thirteen. 

297AC:

“Lord Mace. Lady Alerie. You remember my nephew and niece” Renly Baratheon says smiling as he presented the two. Prince Alycilles and his sister, Princess Saphira stepped forward as they made introductions to the lord and lady of Highgarden. “Thank you for having us here again, Lord Mace,” Alycilles says. 

The plump lord simply chuckled. “You are always welcomed here in Highgarden my prince. You've been here so many times, it would be strange if we stop seeing you now” he says. 

They were in the great hall of Highgarden, a room that looked like the budding of a flower. There were banners of their sigil, a golden rose hanging above their heads being overshadowed by the white walls. Great big windows letting in the sight of the starry sky as the moon's light gleamed off them.

Along those walls, white stone was carved to look like a vine intertwined all around the room. Upon their arrival to Highgarden his sister would always point out the giant status that spread all around the great hall wondering how they managed to get them here. 

Night had come and the main hall was being lit by torches on sculptured pedestals giving the place a palatial look. The lords and ladies of The Reach were in abundance today, some trying to gain the favors of the royal twins.

The prince chuckled as he looked towards the lords’ wife. “Lady Alerie. You look very well my lady” Alycilles says. The lady gave him a curtsey as she thanked him. With that she brought forward her two children who were eager to reacquaintance themself with the prince and princess. A man wearing a light green doublet with flowers patterned on his left shoulder with black tights, and a girl wearing the same color dress with her own gold flower embroidery sewn around the bottom and riding up her thigh and a gold flower pin clipped to her hair. 

He had curly auburn hair that stopped just to his shoulders, and the girl had long curly auburn hair that fell all the way down her back. 

Along with the two came a elderly woman walking with a cane as they stopped before the two twins. 

“Welcome back to Highgarden” the girl says while mostly looking at the prince while she spoke. 

She then turned to the old woman that was accompanying them. I like to introduce you two to my grandmother, the Lady Olenna Tyrell” the auburn hair girl said. 

The old rose looked upon the two, her sharp eyes examining them with evaluation. “My, aren’t you two a pair of lovely things. The silver and gold twins. I see now why they call you two that. The Targaryan blood runs true through you two there's no doubt about that. And this one here might be prettier than Loras”, she says pointing at Alycilles. He gave her a little smirk as his sister let out a giggle. “He is a pretty boy isn’t he” Saphira says looking at her brother as he side eyes her. The prince looking to steer the talking towards something else looked towards Loras. 

“So Loras, how goes your training?” he asked. The boy looked towards the prince as his face beamed. 

“As good as always. You need to attend our next tourney. It's been a while since we had a good bout” he says. “It shall be quite the tourney then, when I finally unhorse the famed knight of flowers” Alycilles says giving him a sly smirk. Loras chuckled, showing some teeth at the prince's remark. “You and everyone else. Though you most likely have the best chance” he says. The two seem to be having a friendly chat when Mace Tyrell found the chance to ask Alycilles a question. 

“So Prince Alycilles, I've been wondering, are the tales of you taking down a full grown lion with your bare hands actually true, I mean, that had to have been stretched a little right?” he asked. The prince chucked. “No I didn't kill a lion with my bare hands my lord, I actually had a steel dagger, not the perfect weapon for fighting a raging beast but when it's charging at you, you either waste time and die or let your instincts take over. One quick thrust to the heart was all it took” the prince says. 

“It was quite the sight. I thought my nephew was lion food for sure” Renly said as he laughed.

“Yeah, well now I have a lion fur cloak” the prince says. 

Music began to play as Highgarden’s great hall was festive with dancing as the many lords and ladies took the center, their regals looks mystifying the scene as they moved around. 

Tables were set for the feast being held and were full of the Reach’s finest cuisines. Both the prince and the princess made their way around being presented to noble after noble, exchanging words of pleasantry. The two of them always enjoyed court intrigue, learning how to play the game from their mother early in their lives. 

They could feel the eyes on them, watching them wherever they strolled off too. “You would think Highgarden never had royals in their halls before by the way they are staring at us” the prince says with some amusement to his tone as he took a sip of cider from his goblet. 

His sister smiled. “They just never seen royals like us before sweet brother. They want to ingrain it into their memories so they can relive this day and tell the rest of their household” she says with a cheeky grin teasing him. 

“You think highly of us sister” he responds with, grinning as he looks at her. “Not my fault when we've been fed that all our lives” she says folding her arms together as she watches the dancers. “I suppose so” he ends with. 

As they talked, the two of them both seem to notice Margaery Tyrell walking up to them with a couple of her lady friends trailing her skirt. They all curtsied once they were close enough as the Tyrell maiden began to speak. “My prince, I would like a request” she says, her tone alluring. Alycilles sat his goblet onto the nearby table and straightened his back as he looked at the beautiful flower. 

“And what would that be, my lady?” he says. She almost seemed to hesitate before she spoke. 

“My cousin would like a dance if you would be willing, my prince” she says as he looks into her eyes, reading them as they tell him a different story. He then eyed the girls at her side, eyes flourished with heat as some of them averted from his gaze and others had their marbles light up. He smirked. 

“And she couldn’t ask herself,” he says. The Tyrell maiden simply shrugged her shoulders and smirked to herself, as the side of her mouth curved upwards. Alycilles was starting to like her even more. “I’ll dance. With you that is” he finishes, staring at her as she grew a concealed smile on her face. 

He took her hand and led her to the middle of the floor and danced. They were soon joined by the others who watched them, following their lead. The two of them were graceful, never missing a step or a beat as if they were one. His silver hair entangling with her auburn waves as they came close together, his arms pressed to the palms of her back while she rested her hand behind his neck. 

Princess Saphira watched them while also noticing the jealous looks the ladies around her were giving off, either jealous of their Highgarden flower, or at the prince for not choosing them. The princess smirked. 

“You move quite nicely my prince” she says. 

“Likewise my lady, you seem a natural yourself”’ he says. My mother would have me practice every chance she could. I’m glad it paid off for something, and i’m not making a fool of myself’’ she says. He gave her a warm smile. 

“I doubt that could ever happen,” he says. As they danced, she felt her face flush with red as she tried to speak but couldn’t. She simply looked into his eyes, mesmerized by his gaze and smile. 

The festivities were calming down as the lion and the rose walked through one of Highgardens many maze-like flower gardens. Margaery Tyrell had her arms entwined into the princes as she led him through the maze. They were surrounded by flowers and roses, each one being of every color, it made the area seem bright under the moonlight.

“So how have you been liking your stay in Highgarden?” she asked him. “You know I always enjoy my stay here. You guys always welcome my sister and I so warmly” the prince says. The Highgarden maid smiles as she dips her head. “You can thank your uncle for that. He’s pretty much charmed my father, telling him stories of you. Not to mention you have the favor of my brothers as well” she says. The prince grew a smile from her words. “If that's the case it’ll be easier for me to plead my case to your father than” he says. She turned her head till she faced him. “You still plan on keeping that promise we made when we were children?” she asked. His eyes found hers as both their eyes seem to reflect the past.

“Why wouldn’t I. I feel just as strongly about it now like I did then. And what about you?” he asked. She kept her gaze onto him, the two of them coming to a cliff overlooking Highgarden with the moons light bright above them. “I sometimes dream of that day. The two of us, jumping on that bed as feathers and pillow stuffing flew around us. We were just kids back then with dreams bigger than ourselves. But of all the dreams that I have lost throughout the years, that was not one of them” she says. She placed a single hand under his chin as she rubbed his face. She smiled at him as he did the same.

“My prince. I’ll keep my promise, waiting here in the gardens for you, so you better not forget me” she says. 

“Ofcourse” he replies. 


	3. The Game Begins (season 1)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With the death of the hand of the king, King Robert looks to bring his family north in hopes to persuade his old friend, Ned Stark, to take up the mantle. With the Baratheons and Starks soon to meet, they'll set the course that the realm with follow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the prologue is done. Chapter 1 is now here and the games officially begin.

298AC:

The throne room was nearly quiet as he watched the silent sisters in their prayers, circle around a body in the middle of the throne room. The man was silent as he laid flat on his back as he rested on a pedestal. His eyes were covered with painted stone in honor of the seven. 

“I can’t believe he's dead” the voice of a girl said next to him. He turned away from the dead man before him and looked to his side. The girl who spoke was wearing a black dress with dark blue lining riding down it. Her hair was let down and tangled as if she barely had time to comb it or even try. Even still she managed to look a natural beauty in her haste. 

“He was old and sick, sister. It took me by surprise too but at least he went out peacefully in his sleep” the boy said.

He thought back on the last moments he had with the man. Jon Arryn was resting in his bed, sick of some fever for some time. When the prince went to see him, the old lord was barely coherent. When he had looked upon the prince he feebly clutched onto one of his hands and simply repeated some words. 

“The seed is strong. The seed is strong” was all he was saying. Soon after he was gone. The prince looked to his right and saw his mother and uncle, Jaime, standing atop the gallery as well, watching as they performed funeral rites on Jon Arryn's cold lifeless body. 

They were in a deep chat, seeming to be discussing something. Whatever it was, the prince couldn’t say. “So are you ready for our trip to Winterfell?” he decided to ask his sister. “Not really. I much rather stay south then go north, but father wills it so it must be done” she says with half heartedly. “It won’t be all bad. I thought you liked traveling and seeing kingdoms” he says. “Yeah, it's just the cold. Never been a fan” she replies.

* * *

  
  


It was cold...or at least it was to the others. Prince Alycilles has found that the cold didn’t affect him that much. Even with the little clothing he wore, his body would give him a natural warmth. He wore his snow white lions cloak and had the lions head over his own as they traveled. The fangs were intact, hanging just above his eyebrows and the fur tickled a little but he didn’t mind.

“Not freezing your arse off are you” a voice called out. The prince smirked a little as he watched his cousin, Tyrek Lannister, ride up next to him. “Not as much as you cousin” the prince says sneering at him. They’ve been on the kingsroad traveling for months now. Along the way, they would often stop to visit different lords, staying at their keeps and castles, like castle Darry. Oftentimes on their way down the road, the carriage that was being used to transport the Queen, and the prince's siblings would break down. His father would grow angry, and use this time to go on hunts, to which Alycilles would join him, always looking to bond with his father over a good hunt. 

When they grew bored of that they would continue their trip to the north. The longer they moved the colder it got as he began to visibly see his breath and figured they were close now, very close. They passed Moat Cailin and were upon castle Cerwyn to which he was told Winterfell was not too far now. 

Alycilles looked around watching as the royal caravans and carriages rolled and tumbled on the ground. He saw his father in front leading everybody as a few kingsguard surrounded him keeping their eyes scanning the land. He kept his own steady pace near his mother's royal carriage as he and Tyrek talked. As they rode, horses trotted up next to them with two familiar faces riding on top covered in furs and golden armor. “Cousin. Nephew” a man said. “Uncle Jaime. Uncle Tyrion” the prince replies. 

Tyrek nodded his head as he greeted his two Lannister cousins. 

“So, how are you guys?, enjoying the north so far?” the prince asked. The Lannister brothers shifted in place as if the north's cold gave them a chilling hug in the moment. “Well, so far what they said about the cold was true. Glad I packed extra furs and some wine” Tyrion says, revealing a wineskin as he takes a long sip from it. “You guys ever been to the north?” the prince asked. “Nope, not that I would want too” Jaime quickly replied. This brought a smirk to Tyrek’s mouth. “Yes, us southerners don’t take kindly to the cold” Tyrek says. “You guys might not, but I'm doing quite alright” the prince says smiling. “If anything, I think I might need to find me a good inn before I meet the Starks and calm my nerves” Tyrion Lannister said. “A good inn. Or a good brothel brother” Jaime said as the youngest Lannister sibling simply gave the man a cheeky grin.

At that a kingsguard rode up to them, halting their conversation as they focused on the arriving knight. “My prince, the king requests your presence” the man says. Alycilles turned to his cousin and uncles. “No time for the weary then” he says. He lightly kicks his stirrups as his horse went into a gallop. He saw his brother leave the carriage he was riding in and trade it for a horse. Alycilles figured his father wanted his two eldest sons to ride with him. Tommen was still too young to ride so he stayed behind with his mother and sisters. 

As he made it to the front of his family's traveling party, he noticed his brother on his father's left side eyeing him as he stopped next to the king. “Father, you called for me” the prince says, his swavy platinum golden hair blowing in the wind. “Yes, we'll be arriving at Winterfell soon. I want you and Joff by my side as we ride in” King Robert says. 

“As you wish father” the prince says. 

* * *

  
  


The household of Winterfell were at their main gates, servants, and maester alike lined up as they waited for the royal parties approach. The lord of Winterfell, Eddard Stark was by his family's side, watching the entrance when a little girl wearing a steel half helm casually took her place in line. 

“Hey, hey, hey, what are you doing with that on?” the lord asked. The little girl looked up to him, eyes somewhat cowering from the man's gaze. 

“I saw him,” she says, her eyes full of excitement. 

She fell into line pushing a small boy out her way as she took her place. They were silent and could hear the sounds of hundreds of horse feet trotting on the dirt ground growing louder and louder heading their way, armor of knights clanking as they bounce on their saddles. 

The lord of Winterfell watched as he saw the King being followed on both sides by two young boys. Eddard recognized one of them, but not the other. Lord Stark's daughter, a redhead named Sansa was watching the crown prince, Joffrey Baratheon, her eyes following him when she found them glancing at his younger brother. Her heart skipped a beat when she looked upon him. The second prince stopped next to his brother, his long silver hair, thick and shaggy, resting on his white cloak. His face was refined with high cheekbones, but it was his eyes that captured her. She’s never seen anyone with different color eyes and she could help but gaze in them. He had a suave look to him. 

She hadn’t realized it but she was gawking at the two of them somewhat comparing. The eldest prince was beautiful in his own right, having long golden locks like his brother that rested on his shoulder, pouty lips and gleaming green eyes. 

Looking at the two she could see a similarity between them that they didn’t share with their father. She wondered if they took on more of their looks from their mother like herself. She hadn’t noticed but her brother, Rob Stark had noticed his sister staring at the two princes and decided to have his own look. They didn’t seem to special to him. Both looked like what he expected most royals to look like. Well designed clothes, a regal appearance, and high noses. The rest of the traveling party arrived following the king as the inhabitants of Winterfell bent down to one knee as the King got off his horse. Lord Stark watched as his old friend needed a step stool and some help down from his horse. The King marched towards them as he stopped just in front of Lord Stark. Prince Alycilles watched as his father waved his fingers as they all stood up from their knees. 

“Your grace” Lord Stark says. They looked at each other for a long second, everyone holding their breath as the two exchanged greetings. 

“You’ve gotten fat” the King finally spoke. They looked at each other as everyone watched as false tension built. Lord Stark casually looked down at the King’s stomach then back at him then the two broke into a loud laughter embracing each other. The prince's cousin made his way to his side as his father made pleasantries. “Impressed yet?” he asked, rubbing his hands together bringing a little warmth to them. 

“I haven’t met them yet, but by appearances alone they seem like an honorable bunch” the prince says. Once the king was done greeting the Starks he turned towards his family.

“Well, time to make my appearance. He hopped down from his horse giving the reins to his cousin to hold as he made his way to his mother's carriage as one of her servants opened the door. Out came the queen wearing a long fur coat over a long red dress. 

Her hair was set down low keeping her southern style. Those who heard rumors of the queen's beauty saw those words spoken true when they were able to cast their gaze on her that day. 

Behind her trailed the eldest princess. She looked entirely like her mother though the queen would say her daughters' appearance was more of her own mothers. She had long silver hair like her brothers that flowed well past her shoulders. Her cheekbones were strong and her eyes intimidating as people looked onto her. The Starks were watching, captivated by the princess’s own beauty. Alycilles could see some boy whispering something to another boy who was standing next to lord Stark. He could tell he was talking about his sister as the weasel looking boy was laughing with a smile as he looked in her direction. Alycilles narrowed his eyes but turned his attention back to his family members. 

* * *

  
  
  


"Not bad, eh Robb” Theon Greyjoy whispered close to the young lordling. Robb simply turned his head back to him then looked at the princess. “You wouldn’t mistake her for anything other than a princess, that's for sure” Robb says as he kept his eyes on the princess. “Yeah, and if rumors are true, that princess might be your lady wife in the future. Not a bad deal to have that in my bed every night” Greyjoy said as he let out a cringy snort. Robb simply looked back at him and turned to face the royal family. 

The younger siblings soon made their appearance, Princess Myrcella, and Prince Tommen stepping off the carriage, moving to stand next to their mother. Princess Myrcella had golden locks reaching her back in the style of her sisters, leaving it falling down her back. She wore a red and brown dress coupled with scarfs around her neck to keep her warm. Plump little Tommen wore a dark red tunic and black trousers while shaded by a long black cape with red inner lining. Alycilles made his way to his sister standing next to her as the royal siblings all stood in attendance. The little girl who was wearing the half helm, smiled as she looked at the royal family. A man wearing golden armor removed his helm as his golden hair flowed around his head. “That's Jaime Lannisiter. The queen’s brother. And that’s them. The gold and silver twins” Arya said in her tone just above a whisper. “Would you shut up?” her sister, Sansa said visibly annoyed. 

The queen and her children made their way over to the Stark family as the king looked to introduce them. She held out her hand to which lord Stark grasped and gently kissed. “My queen” Stark says. His lady wife, Catelyn Stark gave her a curtsy saying “my queen” as she did so. 

“Ned, allow me to introduce my children” the king says waving over to them. “My eldest son, Joffrey.’’ The crown prince stepped forward, golden hair flowing through the cold air as he walked. He was tall for a boy his age, strutting forward as he eyed lord Stark. He had a laid back look to him, as if he didn’t want to be there. 

As he stopped, his eyes met Sansa’s who gave him a smile, her small lips pressing together as they curled. Joffrey, finding this amusing, gave her a similar smile. Next, the king waved to his two twins. “My second son, Alycilles, and my eldest daughter, Saphira. The famous twins” he says. 

The two stood there as all of Winterfell's inhabitants turned their gaze to the twins. Whispers could be heard as the courtyard grew a little quiet. It was no secret how these two resembled Targaryans and the news of it all was spread all over the seven kingdoms, even the north who rarely paid attention from things not on their land. They had tales of them ever since they could walk and grew rumors and stories from it. Some say the gods made this a punishment for King Robert for ending the near three hundred year Targaryen dynasty by giving him Targaryen children of his own. The northerners were somewhat mystified by their appearance. They had strong Targaryen features they would assure you, mainly their hair that seemed almost white in the north. 

Robb was eyeing the prince, sizing him up wondering if he was any different from the way he knew princes to be. Greyjoy was staring at the prince as well, with a blank expression, but his eyes told a different story. Ned looked over the boy. It's been years since he last saw him since the last Greyjoy rebellion, and back then he was a small child with tears on his face surviving his first battle. Now, he was almost a man grown, like his own boy, Robb. 

King Robert then introduced his last two children, Myrcella, and Tommen and was ready to proceed on. “Come Ned. Take me to your crypts, I wish to pay my respects”, the king says. He had already begun to walk when the queen turned her head towards him. “My love we’ve been on the road for months. Surely the dead can wait” she says. The king simply ignored her as he beckons Ned Stark to follow him. “Cat, can you show them their rooms?” he asked. She nods her head in response. 

Ned looks at the queen, solemnly,too quick for anyone to notice, then follows the king. Catelyn turned to the queen giving her a warming smile, speaking a few words to her as the Stark and Baratheon children walked up to each other. “So Prince Joffrey, how do you like being away from the capitol?” Robb asked. Joffrey folded his arms as he kicked some snow around. “So far, I've seen no reason to ever leave again” he said. Before Robb could retort, Joffrey walked off calling for his sworn shield, a man with a burned face called Ser Sandor Clegane. They watched as he walked away, cape, and dog trailing him without so much of a goodbye. 

Prince Alycilles turned to the oldest son of the lord of Winterfell, who noticed him, as Alycilles walked up to him. “Don’t mind him, this pack isn’t used to the cold yet like you guys. A pleasure to meet you Robb Stark.” Robb turned his gaze to the silver haired boy who stopped in front of him, holding out a hand. Robb stood straight as he gripped the prince's hands. He gave him a good squeeze, any feeling of limpness not present. 

His fur glove was fuzzy on Robb’s hand. The glove was woven with brown wool with black fur sewn around the palms. “Robb, meet my sister, Saphira,” the prince said. He looked at her, his eyes taking her in full. She had a sharp face with cheekbones that were finely pronounced. He saw the queen in her, especially with her hair styled in the queens fashion. She held out her hand to him which he took as his father had done with the queen and placed a soft kiss upon it. He turned his face up to her, catching her gaze. His heart fluttered upon seeing the mismatched color of her eyes. They were sharp and unyielding. Robb, before making a fool of himself took to introducing his own sisters. Sansa could hardly contain her shyness, her face bright red. She could hardly meet his gaze and whenever she did, she would quickly glance away. Prince Alycilles eyes looked over the red haired girl as he stood at least two and a half feet above her. He could tell she was shy and nervous. 

Her cheeks were turning red, and her blue eyes would never set on his own. He found her funnily innocent. 

“Well met, Lady Sansa,” the prince said, smiling at her. Her eyes widened as she found even his smile beautiful. 

“Well met, my prince” she says as she curtsies. He then introduced his younger sister Myrcella and brother, Tommen, who seem to get along with the younger Stark children. The young Stark girl, Arya, had excitement written over her face as she looked up to the prince who noticed her curious eyes. 

“You look like you want to ask me something,” he said to her, looking down at the young she-wolf of Winterfell. Her face lit up at his words. 

“Is it true you killed a lion with your bare hands?” she asked, curiosity written over her face. The Baratheon children laughed as the prince simply sighed. “I sure did. Peeled its skin off with my bare hands, and now I wear it as my cloak” he said, gesturing to the white lion's cloak draped around his back. The baby of the Starks, the one called Rickon had his mouth wide open, marveling at the story. The other Stark boy looked eager himself to talk to the prince. 

“I heard you were knighted at the age of thirteen. I hope to be a knight one day” Bran Stark said. 

“Keep at your practice, and I'm sure you’ll be one in no time” the prince said as he revealed a wine skin from behind his back. The Princess Myrcella gasped when she saw it, “Does mother know you have wine skin?’’ the princess Myrcella asked. “No she doesn’t. Which is why this is just a strong cider, to keep me warm” he said. “Well can I have a sip then?” Myrcella asked. Prince Alycilles gave her a small smile as he seemed almost reluctant to but decided to grant her request. “Fine, but don’t let mother find out” he said as he handed her the skin to which she took and took a long sip from. The Stark children watched on, finding the royal siblings different from what they expected them to be like. 

“You know with all the castles I've seen, Winterfell has some of the finer craftsmanship” he says. Robb smirked, “you’ve barely seen her, how can you make such a claim” he said. 

“Well, lets just say I have a good eye for this thing. Even so there’s a lot to say about this place. There’s a serenity to it that King’s Landing lacks” the prince said. “Peaceful in nature. Your pretty perspective” Robb says taken aback. 

“So, are you going to introduce me to the boy brooding behind you?” Alycilles asked. They all turned around to see Jon lift his head up as he saw the attention quickly turning to him. 

“This is my half brother, Jon Snow” Robb said.

“Nice to meet you Jon,” the prince said as he held his hand out.” Jon looked at his hand, then at the prince. He gave the prince a tight grip as they shook. 

“So, are you guys good with the sword. I was hoping to get some practice in, while I was here” the prince said. “Well we usually have training in the courtyard. I’m sure Ser Rodrik wouldn’t mind if you joined” Robb said.

“Sounds good” Alycilles says. The prince then turned to his siblings, eyeing them as he gathered their attention. “Come guys. Let's go find our rooms” Alycilles says, taking his wine skin back from his smiling sister as he led them away.

* * *

His room was of decent size. Furs layered over his bed as a hearth warmed him as the sounds of crackling logs filled the silence of the room. Alycilles was changing out of his traveling clothes and into something more comfortable. A yellow and black studded doublet with his coat of arms of a crown stag facing a lion on his left breast. Underneath he wore a cotton black shirt with the strings tied to keep him warm. Along with his doublet he wore a pair of black trousers, tightly fitted that clung to his legs but still fitted him comfortably. He bent down and grabbed a pair of boots. Black, just like the trousers as he stuffed his feet into them and laced them up. He combed his fingers through his silver-blonde hair till he looked presentable for the feast.

The feast itself was grand as the Starks proved to be the gracious host. The feast hall had a big hearth burning towards the front of the hall as its flames heated up the cool room. Torches hung from the stony walls of Winterfell giving the hall an orange tint as they all seem to glow. The meals the prince saw that were laid out had his mouth watering, especially after not having eaten anything filling since their long trek to the north. 

When they came in, all the Stark children were paired up with a Baratheon child, while the King was paired with lady Stark and lord Stark was with the queen, leading into the feast as the lords and ladies watched them. Joffrey looking gallant, was walking with Sansa Stark, the girl trying her best to calm her nerves. Next came the second prince as he had his arm entangled with Arya’s as they made their way down the hall. After it was Robb walking in with Princess Saphira. He sometimes would sneak a peek at her as she walked with her chin held high. Last it was Princess Myrcella walking together with the young Bran Stark. Once they were sat, music began to play as a couple of people were playing instruments filling the dining hall with songs of the north. 

People were dancing and jeering, mugs of alcohol in the air as they sanged along to the music. The older men and women seem to swarm around the king being pulled into his loud presence. As the prince watched him, he wondered why so many gravitated to his father, especially some northmen. Maybe it was because of his history with the north, or his accomplishments in the past he was thinking. The prince was sitting at one of the main tables with Arya to his right shoulder, while Robb and his sister were to his left. Before them there were large platters of food all lined up down along the table. Steaming pig glazed with honey, sausages crisped near black, bread toasted leaving a crunch after every bite. Chicken, fish, steamed carrots, broccoli, and other greens. 

Sweet wines, ciders, beers, fermented milk, rum, and mead, were all set on every table, most likely requested by the king himself. Alycilles enjoyed the wine the most, liking the sweet taste it left on his tongue. Beer and mead was a little too strong for his liking and tasted like watered down piss. He took a glance down at his table, seeing who else were seated with him. Brandon Stark was on the left of Princess Saphira, laughing with her as he told some sort of joke. She would occasionally talk with Robb, laughing with the young lord. Alycilles was surprised his sister was giving him the time of day. She usually liked to toy around with sons of lords who were eager to win her hand, but with Robb she looked like she was genuinely enjoying him. 

He looked away, turning towards the food before him. He grabbed a knife and fork, cutting into the sizzling pig, slicing off a large portion as it dripped with juices all over the table then onto his plate, staining the white ceramic. He grabbed a couple of mushrooms, carrots, a piece of the cooked chicken and some of the baked rolls. It was like an ecstasy to his mouth. The smoked pig filled his mouth with juices whenever he chewed, leaking from the corner of his mouth. He didn’t bother taking the time to wipe his chin, using a piece of the roll to wipe the grease from it. 

After awhile he found his plate nearly empty, and his hunger barely sated. He clutched his goblet, and grabbed one of the wine mugs, and poured some sweet wine into his goblet until it was nearly full and took a long sip, enjoying the sweet flavor of cherry. He wiped his mouth with a piece of cloth as he saw the feast hall becoming more active and lively. Alycilles could barely hear his own thoughts or even Arya as she tried to get his attention. He shut his eyes as he let out some held in air. “What is it Arya?” he asked. She looked hesitant but spoke anyway. 

“Is it true that you fought in the Greyjoy rebellion?” she asked. Alycilles swallowed a mouthful of wine as he listened to the little girl speak. 

“Yes, it's true. I was kidnapped by them when I was very young. I managed to escape while I was there but I found myself running into a battlefield. Why so curious?” he asked her. “My father would tell us stories of his life in the past. The Greyjoy rebellion was one of them that I liked hearing the most. The tale of the silver stag was always curious to me. You had your first kill there, right. When you were five?” 

“That's right” he says

“And now they call you the Avenger”, she said excitedly. 

“That's what they call me. A nickname like all the rest” he said. “Does your father talk about me alot?” he decided to ask her, the wine taking over his thoughts as they wondered. “Not really. But when he does it’s mostly about what happened that day and what he saw in you” she said. That somewhat had him curious. “What do you mean, what he saw in me?” he asked. “I don’t really know. He just said, “you had the warrior watching over you,” she said. 

The prince sipped the rest of his wine, emptying his goblet as he thought about what she just said. _The warrior watching over me. I could see why he would think that in those moments_ he thought as the pictures of that day played over in his wine filled head. He felt the effects of the potion kicking in as he felt himself going numb. The roars of his father's laughter got his attention as he watched him fondle some tavern wenches behind. 

He instinctively turned his eyes towards his mother, who was staring daggers into his father. _Old man, you could at least show her some respect when in public_ he thought. He would go over and talk some sense into the king, but the king had been drinking, and when drunk, it was hard to rain in his antics especially with an audience. 

He suddenly found the rest of his appetite gone. “So how are you liking the feast prince?” a voice on his left asked. 

He turned and saw Robb, staring at him, eyes wide with a smile across his face. “Yes, you guys have good taste down here in the north” the prince said. “So what’s this I hear about you guys having direwolves. Is that true?” he asked. “Aye, they're in the kennels resting. I”ll introduce them to you. Bring your siblings if you want” Robb said. He suddenly felt Arya, poking into his side, asking for more attention from the prince. “What is it now Arya?” he asked. “You see Sansa over there, and her friend Jeyne Poole. They’ve been casting glances over here, and I'm certain they're not looking at me” she said keenly. “Okay, what about it?” he asked, a little confused. “I bet I can hit her with this spoon of potatoes” she said digging her spoon into the mound of mash potatoes that were on her plate. 

“All the way from over here” he says, doubtful.

“All the way from over here” she repeated with confidence in her tone as she smirked. She took her aim, Sansa or the Jeyne girl not noticing the small Stark girl readying herself for her potato attack. Arya pulled her spoon back a far angle and then let it go. 

The potatoes flew across the table missing any bystanders as they found their mark splattering on Sansa’s cheek. She wailed as Arya laughed causing her Robb, Theon, and some others to laugh as well. Sansa could be heard screaming Arya’s name as Jeyne Poole tried to clean her face. It was then Robb stood up and grabbed his young sister saying, “alright, time for bed,” as he lifted her up from the seat away and led her out of the hall. 

As Robb left, leaving his spot empty, Princess Saphira scooted over next to her brother bringing a goblet with her. “So, I actually come to find the north a little interesting. It's still a cold place with miles of nothing, but they have some interesting people though” she said. “I bet. You and Robb looked to be enjoying yourselves” he said. The princess, a little under the influence of the wine, seems to blush at his words, trying to hide her smile behind her goblet. “He is a shy one. But he’s sweet and charming” she said. He simply rolled his eyes as he poured some more wine into his goblet and sipped it, with a blank expression. 

The princess looked at him, waiting for a response but nearly snickered when he didn’t. “What's wrong. Afraid your sister is going to get swept off her feet by a lord's son, forever to be his lady” she teased him. 

He gave her a snort as he tilted his head to her. “Robb Stark would have to be blessed by the gods to have you” he said raising his goblet. “Oh brother, you sure know how to warm a girls heart” she said almost sarcastically as she smirked at him. 

A man suddenly appeared next to the prince sitting down on the bench as he looked towards the two. “Hello Tyrek” the princess said. Tyrek Lannister had a smug look on his face, clearly under the effects of a strong alcohol. “I’m surprised you two are still here. I thought you would have left to bed by now” he said slightly slurring his words. “I was actually planning on going soon. And it looks like you need to as well my drunk cousin” the prince said. 

“Who are you the king?” he said chuckling, downing some more of his wine. “If the realm were lucky” the prince said as he stood up, grabbing his cousin as he and his sister made their way towards the exit. They approached the high seats his mother and lady Stark were seating, the two ladies noticing them as they approached. “Mother. Lady Stark. If you excuse us but we’ll be retiring for the night. The queen smiled at them. “Very well my cubs” she said with her eyes watching them as they left the feast hall. 

* * *

Arya looked down at her stitching. _Crooked again_ she thought. She frowned at her work with dismay and glanced over to where her sister Sansa was sitting with the other ladies and the princesses, Saphira, and Myrcella. Surprisingly to everyone, both princesses had handled the art of needlework with exquisite handling. 

Septa Mordane was highly impressed and barely had to teach them anything. Arya looked at her own work, looking for some way to salvage her mess but conceded to giving up. She looked glumly at her sister. Sansa was chatting happily as she worked on her stitching. Beth Cassel, Ser Rodrik's little girl was sitting at her feet listening as Jeyne Poole leaned over whispering into her ear. 

“What are you talking about?” Arya suddenly snapped at them. Jeyne gave a startled look, then giggled. 

Sansa looked abashed. 

Little Beth blushed as she watched the older girls. No one answered as Arya eyed them looking for their words. “Tell me” Arya said. Jeyne glanced over to see Septa Mordane busy with Princess Myrcella distracting her. “We were just talking about the princes” Sansa said. “Yeah, and it seems your sister can’t decide on which one she likes the most” Jeyne said as she failed to hold back a giggle as Sansa eyed her. “The crown prince is so handsome but so is his brother. He seems a little mysterious though. Not like his older brother at all” she says. Unaware of them, Princess Saphira was listening to them as she finished her needlework. “Prince Joffrey likes your sister,” Jeyne whispered, looking proud for her best friend. “He told her she was very beautiful. He’s going to marry her and then Sansa will be queen of all the realm” little Beth says dreamily. 

The Stark girl's face began to match her hair. “Beth you shouldn’t make up stories” Sansa corrected her gently stroking her long hair to take the harshness out of her words. “What do you think of Prince Joffrey Arya?” her sister asked. “He seems a little snobby, nothing like Prince Alycilles” she says. 

“Aww, I think Arya has a crush on the second prince” Jeyne teased. “I do not” Arya said a little too loudly. This caught Septa Mordane’s attention who walked over to Arya. “Alright Arya, let’s see what you have.” 

The speta examined the fabric. “No Arya this will not do. This will not do at all” she says with a tsk to her voice. Everyone was staring at her now. It was too much. 

Sansa was too fast to smile at her sister's disgrace, but Jeyne was smirking on her behalf. Even the Princess Myrcella looked sorry for her. Arya bolted from her seat heading straight for the door. 

“Stop right there young lady. Do not take another step. Your lord mother will hear of this behavior. And even in front of the princesses” the septa was saying. “It’s alright. Let her go” Princess Saphira said, causing all of them to look at her in surprise. Arya looked at her and gave her best bow, “thank you princess,” she said and then ran out the room. 

Arya made her way to the covered bridge between the armory and great keep with Nymeria trailing her mistress's tail. She noticed Jon leaning on the sill looking out on the courtyard. Ghost leaned his head up noticing Nymeria and began to wag his tongue. Jon turned his head taking notice of his half sisters approach. “Shouldn’t you be at your knitting studies” Jon says. 

“I left that. Too boring. Rather watch this” she says. “Well come on up then” Jon says lifting her onto the sill as she sat and watched. Prince Tommen and Bran Stark were in a makeshift ring both wearing padded armor as the two whacked at each other with wooden swords. As one would swing, the other would react in kind, bringing their sword in for a strike. Ser Rodrik Cassel, the master at arms, was watching the two, focusing on their sword work. 

A dozen spectators on both sides, Lannister, Baratheon, and Stark were cheering on their respective sides. Prince Alycilles was leaning against a crate while he and Tyrek cheered on for Prince Tommen, shouting out suggestions for the plump prince while Rob Stark and Theon were doing the same for Bran. Suddenly prince Tommen was on the ground, rolling in the dust as he tried to get up but failed. Bran loomed over the fallen prince, ready to whack him again but was stopped when Ser Rodrik called out, “enough.” 

He gave the plump prince a hand, and helped him up. “Well fought. Lew, Donnis, help them out their armors” the master at arms said. “Prince Joffrey. Robb. Will you two go another round?” he asked. Robb stepped forward eagerly. “Gladly” he said. Prince Joffrey stepped into the light, his mane like hair shining in the sun. “This is a game for children, Ser Rodrik” he says. Theon Greyjoy gave a sudden bark of laughter. “You are children” he said derisively. Prince Alycilles looked at this opportunity and stepped forward. “I’ll take him on, Ser Rodrik” he says. Everyone looked to the prince as he grabbed one of the wooden swords. Robb was smiling having been anticipating this matchup. 

“Very well, let’s have at it then” Ser Rodrik said. Robb and Alycilles both strapped on some of the practice armor and took to the circle. The two young men began to circle around each other, the courtyard silent as the two stalked around each other, the cold air blowing through Winterfell. 

Robb had a serious look to his face while the prince was simply smiling. Robb made the first move, taking a swing at the prince who easily parried it, circling around Robb. he waited for Robb to face him, holding his sword up while his other arm was placed behind his back, while he stood in a stance Robb didn’t recognize. He charges again swinging his sword as Alycilles swung his own, each time meeting Robbs wooden one, knocking it back with each collision. Robb was grimacing wildly putting power into each strike while the prince was calm and fluid. 

Alycilles started to swat Robb's sword away going on for the offense now, looking to test Robb’s own defense. He gave the young lord three quick stabs, two hitting his sword while the other hit Robbs shield sending him reeling back as he held his footing. 

The prince didn’t stop there as he quickly strolled to Robb swinging his sword away as he struck Robb’s shield hard. Each blow Robb yelled out a little, struggling to hold his shield up after each strike the prince gave him. 

Alycilles was swift like the wind, managing to get to Robbs back. Robb quickly turned his head managing to just barely block another blow with his shield, but this time the shield snapped and splintered, giving way after receiving hit after hit. This time Robb didn’t back away as he gripped his wooden sword with both hands as he stared down Alycilles. The prince sidestepped a couple of times as he performed a hard feint, tricking Robb leaving him stunned as Alycilles gave Robb’s hand a quick slap as he lost his grip to his sword. He then found his feet being kicked from under him, sending him falling to the snowy ground with a loud crunch. Robb tried to get back up but was held down by the prince with his knee to his chest and wood to his throat. 

“I yield,” Robb said and cheers from the Lannister and Baratheon men. 

“Your good” Robb said as he was being lifted up from the ground by the prince. “You're not so bad yourself Stark.” 

“Aye, but there’s much I need to learn still it seems.” 

Up on the walkway Jon and Arya were bewildered at the fight. “I’ve never seen Robb fight so hard. The prince looked like he was barely trying at all” Arya said. “Aye, he’s good” Jon says. 

“You think you can take him?” the young girl asked, but before he could give his answer, he heard someone call out his name. 

“Hey Jon, care to have a go?” they heard the prince shouting up to them. Jon smiled and then looked to Arya. “Guess we’ll find out” he says as he makes his way down the stairs to the courtyard. Ser Rodrik looked concerned, “my prince, are you sure you want to go through with this” the master at arms said. 

“It’s fine Ser Rodrik. Nothing to worry about” Prince Alycilles said to the man. His elder brother, prince Joffrey was on the side sneering. “Oh brother, don’t disgrace our family by letting this bastard actually hurt you. What would our father, and mother think” he taunts, causing some chuckles to ring out. The prince simply ignored him as he got ready. Tyrion lannister casually strolled along with Jaime as they watched. “Dear nephew, you underestimate your brother. You oughta know of his talents with a sword” Tyrion says. Theon decided to interject his own comment. “Jon is no ordinary warrior, he’s better than Robb. Your prince will have no chance” Greyjoy said confidently. 

“You sound like a eager one Greyjoy. Do try yourself against my nephew yourself. He has a talent for fighting Greyjoys” Tyrion said. A couple of the Lannister men laughed at the comment to which Theon hid a scowled look from them. Jon had finally made his way to them as he grabbed a wooden sword. The prince could tell just from looking at Jon that he was more skilled than Robb. 

“Wait” a voice suddenly called out in the yard, halting any conversations that were happening. They all turned to see Prince Joffrey there sneering. “Enough with the toy swords Ser Rodrik” he says. “I don’t understand” the confused master at arms responded back with. “My brother means for us to use live steel Ser Rodrik” Prince Alycilles says. “You should've said something when it was my turn prince” Robb said to Joffrey. 

“No, live steel is too dangerous, we’ll stick to blunted edges, tourney blades” Ser Rodrik says. Joffrey said nothing but a man by his side with a burned face stepped forward. 

“This is your crown prince. Who are you to deny him” the Hound said. Before Ser Rodrik could get a word in, he was cut off by Prince Alycilles. “He’s the master at arms Clegane, it is within his right.” 

The Hound then looked to Ser Rodrik. “Are you training women here Ser?” he asked. “I’m training knights. They’ll have live steel when they come of age.” 

The hound spat. “Come to age. This one here killed a man at only the age of five” he says looking at Prince Alycilles. The yard grew quiet until joffrey feigned a yawn then turned to his younger brother. “Come Tommen. The hour of play is done. Leave the children to their frolics” Joffrey said. This brought more sneers and laughter to the Lannister men as some of them walked away with their prince, leaving Alycilles gritting his teeth. 


	4. The great departure

The day was early as the two men walked the halls of Winterfell. “The hunt last night was something, nephew. Two stags and a deer. You truly are a natural hunter” Tyrion Lannister said. 

“I just got lucky. Well, not really, but I don’t want to gloat” Prince Alycilles said with a cheeky smirk.

“So, you think Bran is going to be alright?” the prince asked his waddling uncle as they walked through the cold halls. “From what Maester Luwin says, the boy will live, but not a life he’ll enjoy” Tyrion said solemnly.

“At least he’ll live,” the prince said. “Well, I'm sure breaking our fast will change the mood” his uncle said as they entered the guest house seeing their family there.

The queen along with his siblings, minus Joffrey, were present, along with his other uncle. As they walked, Tyrion signaled to a servant who was walking by, telling her of the sort of breakfast he wanted. “Some of those little fishes please, and some bacon burned black also” he said. Alycilles looked to the servant. “I’ll have the same but don’t burn my bacon please. I actually like to taste my food” he said cheekily to the servant as he saw his uncle roll his eyes. The servant gave them a bow as she scurried off to fulfill their request. 

The two made their way to the table as the inhabitants turned their attention to the newcomers here to join them. The prince walked around the table, greeting his siblings, as Tyrion sat in between his brother and Prince Tommen. He rubbed Tommen’s head prompting a giggle from the boy. 

He went over to his sister Myrcella who was smiling as she watched him, waiting for her own greeting. “My sweet little sister” he said, planting a kiss on her cheek. The young princess blushed as she greeted her brother. He then turned to his twin, who was waiting for him as he sat down in between her and his mother.

“And the other princess who has my heart” he said as he planted a kiss on his twin sisters cheek. She wasn’t so easily moved to blush, but by her face she was quite pleased with her brother's greeting.

"Uncle Jaime."

"Nephew" Jaime said smiling at the boy. 

He then turned to his mother who seemed to be eyeing him waiting for her greeting. “And of course I can’t forget our lovely queen mother” he said and once again planted a kiss on her cheek. She rubbed his hand, giving him a warming smile. “How goes your morning, dear?” she asked. “So far, I won’t know until I devour something,” he said.

Jaime smirked at him as he turned to Tyrion. “Beloved brother” Jaime said. “Beloved siblings. Nice to have all of the family together for once. Well, at least all of us” he responded back with. 

Some servants soon came into view as they laid down the breakfast the prince and his uncle ordered. Alycilles licked his lips as he immediately grabbed a strip of bacon, crunching it in his teeth. “Is Bran going to die?” Myrcella suddenly asked. She turned her head to her brother who was still picking at some bacon when he noticed her looking towards him for an answer. 

“Apparently not” he says after wiping his mouth with a cloth. The princess smiled then turned back to her breakfast as the queen and her twin shared a look that the others failed to see except for Tyrion.

“Maester says the boy may live” Tyrion speaks as he drinks from his cup. Queen Cersei and Jaime seem a little off by his words but they hid it well. “It’s no mercy allowing a child to linger in such pain” the queen said.

“Only the gods know for certain. Only thing the rest of us can do is pray” Tyrion said. “The charms of the north seem lost on you sister” he said as he tilted his chin up to her. 

“Mother brought all the charms of King’s Landing with her” the prince said, causing his little siblings to draw some laughter. The queen looked at her son, her eyes sharp, making him look down to his breakfast. She then looked back to Tyrion. 

“I still can’t believe you're going,” she said. “It’s ridiculous, even for you.”

“Where's your sense of wonder, the greatest structure ever built. The intrepid men of the knights of winty abode of the white walkers” he says.

“Tell me you're not thinking of taking the black” Jaime says. Tyrion looked at him bewildered. “And go celibate. The whores would go begging from Dorne to Casterly Rock, no I just want to stand on top of the wall and piss of the world.” 

The children laughed at his comment. Saphira gave her uncle a smile holding in her chuckle. Even Alycilles who nearly choked on his bread couldn’t help but laugh. “The children don’t need to hear your filth. Come Myrcella, Tommen. You too Saphira” the queen says. Princess Saphira gave her brother a look to which he reciprocates a wink with. “Well that was something” Alycilles said.

“So, you won’t be in Kings Landing for my name day uncle” the prince said looking slightly sad. Tyrion looked upon his nephew, his face making the little Lannister feel a little bad.

“Don’t sulk nephew. I won’t be there, but my gifts for you and your sister will be” he said. That seemed to brighten the boy's spirit as he smiled and nodded his head to that. Suddenly, a servant walked up to Alycilles as he gained his attention. “What is it?” he asked. “My prince, the king is asking to see you,” the man said.

The prince dropped the bread he held onto his plate. _Great,_ he thought. He took a few more bites of his sausage and washed it down with a long gulp of wine before he made his leave. “Just like your mother” Jaime said with a side smirk to which the prince replied with a burp. 

* * *

  
  


He found his father, along with Lord Stark in the great hall, just the two of them as they were speaking until they noticed the prince's arrival. He flipped his hair, untangling it as he greeted the two men. “Father. Lord Stark.” 

“Aye, come here my boy. Ned and I were discussing some business and such detailing our families” the king spoke. The prince gave him curious eyes, wondering where his father was taking this. “We’ve decided to betrothed Joffrey to Sansa,” he says. The prince looked puzzled. “And what does that have to do with me?” he asked, slightly shrugging his shoulders. There was a silence for a moment until the king spoke again.

“And you will be betrothed to the other one.” 

His eyes widened at his father's words as his heart seemed to skip a beat the second he finished speaking. 

“Father, I have nothing against Arya, but do you recall the agreement we came to?” he said, raising a single eyebrow. “Aye, I do, but I’ve decided this match will be better. To unite the north with the crown” the stag king says. The prince clenched his teeth as he digested the excuse his father was giving him. 

“It’s not the choice I wanted. And besides, isn’t the crown and the north united through your friendship with Lord Stark” he said, his voice slowing rising. “Watch it boy. What would you have me **do** , marry you to the Tyrell girl you fancy so much” the king bellows, his voice reverberating against the walls. Alycilles turned, slightly embarrassed as his face turned red. “Yeah, Renly always has lots to say from your trips to Highgarden, but my decision is final and I’ll hear no more about it” the king says. With that the prince turned on his heel ready to leave but before he did he gave his father a light bow. “Your grace” he said and then stormed off. 

“Maybe it wasn’t necessary to force a betrothal on him so early. He didn’t seem quite pleased” Ned Stark said. “Ah, let him sulk. He always had a habit of throwing tantrums when he didn't get his way. He does have the Baratheon fury, that’s for sure” the king said. 

* * *

  
  


The prince was furious as he marched through the halls of Winterfell. He couldn’t believe his father. _After all I did to show him nothing but respect and obedience like a dutiful son and this is how he rewards me. A promise, a king's promise, broken, so he could have a union with his old war buddy_ he thought. His feet were stomping down hard, and loudly that he didn’t hear the other footsteps heading his way. 

As he turned around the corner not paying attention in front of him, he bumped into a familiar face as her fiery red hair fluttered as she fell backwards. She would have hit the ground if the hands of the prince hadn’t grabbed a hold of her. He pulled her in close, straightening her back as their eyes met. She was flushed red once she realized who had caught her. “M-my prince” she says with a slight stutter. His temper was lightly soothed once he saw the young Stark girl. 

“Lady Sansa” he says as his voice was ever calm and melodic. 

She was able to keep his gaze longer than she usually did before she turned away from him and realized that her hands were pressed against his chest. She quickly removed them, falling into a deeper bush. “Forgive me, my prince,” she said. He tilted his head slightly at her words. 

“There’s nothing to forgive my lady” he says smiling at her. She couldn’t help but stare at his face. His smile warmed her body. 

“So my lady, how does it feel to be betrothed to my brother. One day you’ll be queen” he said. 

Her eyes widened as she beamed a little at his words. “It feels like a dream come true. I can’t wait to see Kings landing” she says smiling ear to ear. “Well you have the look for it” he says moving a strand of her hair to the side of her ear, as he slowly caressed her cheek. She seems to lean into his hand unknowingly enjoying the feel of it. He moved it away back to his side to which she felt a little disappointed. “Well I must go. We’ll be leaving soon” she said.

“Of Course my lady” he responded to her with. She gave him a curtsy then walked off. The prince stood there, waiting until he felt no one else would walk on him. “Are you going to come out now?” he said aloud. 

It was silent for a while almost like he was talking to himself, until sounds of footsteps came around the nearby corridor. “You seem to always know when i’m around,” the silvered haired princess said, stepping up to him. 

“You're my twin. It almost seems natural that I do.” 

She smiled, looking so much like Cersei. 

“So what do you think of her?” she asked. “She’s a pretty thing. Joffrey will mistreat her. He doesn’t deserve her" he responded with.

She turned to face him. 

“You know. I’ve only heard you call Margaery pretty. Other than Myrcella, mother, and I of course” she said. He shrugged his shoulders to which she narrowed her eyes too. “You want that Stark girl, don’t you?” she asked, keeping her voice low. “Sweet sister,” he said cupping her cheeks, rubbing them with both hands. “I want everything,” he finished. 

* * *

Crossing The Neck had been some trip for them for them heading on their way to King’s Landing. Twelve days on the road and they finally decided to make camp at Castle Darry once again. Prince Alycilles, and his sworn shield, Tyrek Lannister, were walking along the road near Castle Darry itself, as the rest of the king's entourage was settling in.

“The Ruby Ford. Not as ruby as I thought it would be,” Tyrek said as he stared into the water. “Don’t tell me you actually believe there are still rubies in the water” Alycilles said.

“Of Course not, they all would have been claimed by now if not washed away with the current” the Lannister boy said. They stopped to rest on a patch of grass underneath a tall tree, taking in the shade. Alycilles had his eyes closed, with his arms behind his head taking in the serenity of nature as he hummed a tune. His peace though was abruptly interrupted when he heard what sounded like clacking of wood on wood, ringing through the air. 

“Hm, what's that?” Tyrek said, turning towards the point of their interest. The prince opened one eye as the sounds caught his attention too. “Hmm, something worth checking out. What say you cousin” the prince said. 

“Let's go rumble in some trouble” Tyrek said as they proceeded to walk towards the noise. 

They made their way towards a clearing near the Ruby Ford catching Arya along with a chubby boy, both wielding long wooden sticks swinging them at each other very poorly as they pretended to be knights. 

The chubby boy was struggling against Arya’s blows. She was giving him hard swings, sending him wailing to the ground as his stick sword flew out his hands, landing just in front of the prince. Arya turned her head and saw Prince Alycilles walking towards them as he twirled the stick between his fingers. “You know cousin, your betrothed isn’t so bad with a stick, better watch out” Tyrek sneered.

“Ha, she’ll have you on your ass before me, wet nurse” Alycilles said with a smile as Tyrek gave him a mocking laugh. They casually made their way to Arya and the boy wondering what they were doing. 

“What are you doing here Alycilles?” she said with curious quickness and wild energy. “Calm down little wolf, do you own the Ruby Ford?” he said. She looked at him with narrow eyes and pursed lips. 

“We heard some comotion so we came to check it out,” he says. “We were just playing your grace, just playing” the red headed boy said with some worry in his tone. “I’m not the king, Mycah, I'm just a prince. Prince Alycilles that is.” Mycah’s eyes widened. 

“You know my name, my prince,” he said, astonished. 

“Yeah, you're the butcher's boy right. I heard your father call your name out once or twice” Alycilles said. The butcher's boy had a smile across his face from being acknowledged by the prince. “So you two have an interest in knights yeah?” he asked as he handed the stick back to Mycah who was looking at Arya timidly. 

“We like to pretend, my prince. I’ve always wanted to be a knight but my father said I shouldn't waste my time with it” he said. “Oh, and what about you, Arya. I know you're not the average lady” he said. “I’m not a lady” she retorts. “Oh, so you have a cock and balls then. Dear cousin I didn’t know you swung that way” Tyrek snickered. Arya and the prince both glared at Tyrek while Mycah stifled a laugh as his face turned red. 

“Alright you two, square off with each other, let me see what you got” he said as he walked in front of the two, eyeing them. They nodded as they took a few steps away then turned to face each other. 

“Alright. Let me see your forms. How you handle your...wood swords” the prince said with a smirk. Arya as small as she was gripped her stick with her small nimble hands holding her arms up high. 

_She has good form, and confidence_ Alycilles thought. He then turned his gaze to Mycah. He was wobbly, standing taller than Arya but his stance was a little off. He gripped his stick with his hands a little too far away from each other as well. _He’ll learn along the way_ Alycilles thought.

“Alright. Go” Alycilles shouts.

Arya was first, swinging her stick with her own finesse as Mycah did his best at confronting her with his own but Arya seemed to be putting more effort into it. Tyrek went to stand by his princely cousin as they watched the two amateurs at play. “Well the girl has some fire in her,” Tyrek said. 

“Come on Mycah. At least use your height to your advantage” Alycilles shouted. The two were enjoying the show, watching them go at it, but their fun was interrupted when they saw two familiar faces appear from around some shrubbery. 

Prince Joffrey, along with Sansa Stark had appeared before them. 

“Arya” the red headed shrieked. Arya lost her concentration by her sister's disturbance as she failed to block Mycahs attack. 

“Ow,” she said as she scowled at Mycah then turned to her sister. 

“What are you doing here? Go away” she shouted in a high pitch voice. Joffrey looked towards Sansa. “Your sister I presume,” he said, gaining a nod from her. He then looked towards the startled boy. “And who are you boy?” the prince asked with a tilt of his head. 

“Mycah milord” he said nervously. “He’s the butcher’s boy” Sansa said with some sass in her tone. 

“He’s my **friend** ” Arya shot back. Joffrey slowly walked towards him, stumbling somewhat in his walk. “A butcher's boy who likes to play knight.” 

He then drew his sword, Lion's Tooth, and held it towards Mycah. 

“Go pick up your sword knight, or do you only fight girls.” The terrified Mycah began to stutter. “She ast me to milord, she ast me too.”

Before Joffrey could retort, Prince Alycilles crossed in between Mycah and Joffrey, blocking the butcher's boy from Joffrey’s wroth. 

“Stand down Joffrey,” he said. Both Joffrey and Sansa had a surprised look on their faces having not noticed Joffreys brother and Tyrek standing on the side. 

"Well, well, well. I shouldn’t be surprised you're playing with a peasant brother” Joffrey sneered. 

The crown prince was holding his sword up to him, swaying left and right awkwardly. Alycilles noticed the wineskin in Sansa’s hands and realized the situation. “Go back to the camp brother. You're drunk” he said sternly. Joffrey simply smirked. “What. You're not the only one who can hold their alcohol. Besides, I decided I wanna play knights too” he said with a slur. 

Alycilles frowned at his brother to which Joffrey, for once, didn't falter under. He turned his back to him, calling out for Arya, Mycah, and Tyrek to follow him and leave Joffrey to his own devices. 

The crown prince, with his fury rising, took a swipe at his brother, cutting his right arm, tearing the fabric of his cotton shirt. “Ow,” he said as he turned to see the tip of Joffrey’s blade covered in his blood. He felt his temper rising, and he started to march on Joffrey, but before he could retaliate, he noticed Arya making her way behind his brothers back. With a thwack she broke her wooden stick against Joffrey's skull, splintering the thing in two. 

Sansa simply stared there, afraid as everything seemed to happen so fast before her horrified eyes. Joffrey staggered as he whirled around screaming out, cursing, attempting to slash Arya with his sword. "I'll gut you, you little cunt" he shouted.

The little girl ran avoiding his onslaught, dipping and diving as Lion's Tooth missed her by a hairs inch. She began running towards the woods, but Joffrey was hot on her trail. “Stop stop, you're spoiling it, you're spoiling everything” Sansa shrieked as she watched her prince chase around Arya.

“ **Sansa, calm down** ” Alycilles shouted at the girl. She jumped at his voice as she held her mouth open but couldn’t bring any words out. He felt the tension in the air so he moved quick, chasing down his brother before he did something stupid and hurt someone else. He ran as fast as he could, looking for his brother and Arya when he picked up a girlish shriek coming a few paces away. He ran towards the noise, able to hear his brother still cursing as they seem to come from every corner of the forest. 

He scanned through the trees and saw Joffrey with a cornered Arya with her back against a tall oak. Tyrek and Sansa, along with Mycah were following Alycilles trying to keep up with him watching the scene play out. Joffrey raised Lion’s Tooth high above his head with a twisted look on his face as he was truly intent on striking the Stark girl down. 

Alycilles rushed forward, tackling his brother to the ground, gripping his wrist while he held him in place. “You need to CALM DOWN NOW” he said to a snarling Joffrey. “Who are you to tell me what to do. I am your older brother. The crown prince” he shouted through gritted teeth. 

“Well then start acting like it” his younger brother retorted getting close to Joffrey's face. He looked away from Joffrey and looked up at Arya, who was visibly terrified and jerked his head to the side signaling her to get behind him. As she did he waited for Joffrey to cool down before he released him. The boy struggled at first but Alycilles was much stronger than his lean brother. Joffrey stood up with a rush as he stared off with his brother.

“I suggest you sober up and head back to camp,” Alycilles said sternly as he once again turned his back to Joffrey. 

Joffrey felt his rage building up once more after being talked down to by his little brother. His perfect, adored little brother. He clenched his teeth, gripping his sword till his knuckles turned white. What happened next nearly made Arya’s heart stop as she saw Joffrey intently lunge his sword at his brothers back.

Sansa started screaming, Tyrek began to grip his own sword ready to move. Alycilles didn’t know what was happening, but in that split second as he turned his neck a grey blur caught his eyes. 

Next thing he knew, Joffrey was on the ground crying out as a wolf was biting down on his hand, snarling as it whipped it head back and forth. He saw the wolf, its growl loud and muzzle wet with blood as its fangs ripped apart Joffrey's hand. 

“Down Nymeria” Arya shouted, and following her mistress's command, let go of Joffrey’s skewered hand and moved to her side. The butcher's boy fled running away somewhere in the forest while Arya took Joffrey’s sword and ran off with Nymeria entow. Sansa stood by Alycilles' side, looking at him with pouty eyes as her head was low. He looked at her and sighed. In his fury, her charm had no affect on him so he left her there with his brother. 

“Make sure he gets back to the camp now to get that hand checked out” he said to her, she nodded her head then bent down next to Joffrey. Alycilles simply shook his head as he departed with Tyrek who had slowly sheathed his sword in that time. 

* * *

It didn’t take long for a serious commotion to start. The king and queen soon found out about Joffrey’s little incident with Arya’s direwolf and wanted them both presented forward. Resting outside with Tyrek, Alycilles sat on a barrel as he cleaned the cut Joffrey gave him when they saw Lannister men rushing past them looking to be in a hurry. 

“I knew we should have gone looking for her. Let’s go Tyrek” the prince said as he tightened the bandage around his cut. 

“Alright, but you need to keep track of your wife” Tyrek said. 

“Yeah, yeah, let's just go before any of my father's men finds her. There’s no telling what my mother told them to do.” 

The sun went down faster than Alycilles liked, making it harder for them to find Arya, until they found her hiding underneath a turned over tree. It was by chance of luck that Tyrek spotted her out of the corner of his eyes. She was still frightened when they found her but she calmed down when Alycilles held his hand out to her. With that they took her back, ignoring all the soldiers who walked up to them, offering to take Arya before the queen themselves. Alycilles took note of how it was the queen they were planning on bringing her to, his mother, so he sent them all away, and kept Arya close to him. 

* * *

Ned Stark entered Darry’s hall as he pushed his way through Lannister and Baratheon men alike. Arya stood in the center of the room, with only Jory by her side while Lannister men surrounded them. “Arya” Ned called out loudly. He went to her, his boots ringing on the stone floor. He saw her and immediately rushed to her side, pushing his way through Lannister men who were all eyeing him. He went down to one knee and took her in his arms, asking if she was alright. 

After that lord Stark came back to his feet facing the king.

“What is the meaning of this?” he said calmly, holding back the intensity to his tone. The king and queen were sitting on Darry’s high seats being elevated able to see all those in the hall. He looked around for friendly eyes but there were few. Ser Raymun Darry himself had a disguised look on his face, while Renly had a half smile, and Ser Barristan looked worrisome himself. Stark then suddenly saw Alycilles leaning against a pillar, catching his eyes but his expression didn’t change. 

Everybody had their eyes set on Lord Stark, a bunch of lions and a surrounded wolf.

“Why was I not told that my daughter was found?” he said looking at the king but it was the queen who spoke.

“How dare you speak to your king in that manner.” At that the king stirred up like he was waking from a drunken sleep. 

“Quiet women” he snapped. “Sorry Ned. I never meant to frighten the girl. It seemed best to bring her here and get this done quickly.” _That’s only because you didn’t show any backbone when I offered to deliver Arya to Stark first but mother managed to convince you otherwise_ Alycilles thought. “And what business is that?” Ned said to the queen with ice in his tone. 

Queen Cersei narrowed her eyes as she stood. “You know full well Stark. Your girl here attacked my son. Her and that butcher’s boy. That animal of hers nearly tore Joffrey’s hand off.” 

“That’s not how it was. Joffrey was about to Stab Alycilles with his sword and Nymeria stopped him. She was simply defending Alycilles,” she whimpered out. Everyone looked at each other, some not realizing the second prince was somehow involved with this. 

“My son didn’t tell me he was a part of this. Alycilles what do you know?” the king asked his son. Everyone looked towards the prince who was still leaning on a pillar near Darry’s high seat with Tyrek around the side. The Queen and Joffrey looked at him, Joffrey with a pouty face while the queen was silent but her eyes were trying to speak something to him. Ned and Arya looked at him as well, Arya was silent but her eyes were pleading to him.

“Well boy” the king had said, losing his patience. 

“Alright, but everything I'm about to say is the truth and the whole truth” he emphasized at the end. 

“I was with Arya and Mycah, watching them as they played with their sticks when Joffrey and Sansa made their way towards us. They had a wineskin with them and I could personally tell that Joff was under some sort of influence. He walked up to Mycah drawing his sword trying to instigate a fight with the boy. That was when I intervened, trying to stop it before things got out of hand. I must've made my brother mad because after I turned away from him, he cut me on my arm as you can see here” the prince said showing them is bandaged arm. 

“After that Arya did hit Joffrey with her stick. She might have been defending me even when I told her not to escalate it, but she still hit a prince.” Arya’s expression seemed to change as she grew a somber look. 

“After that Joff grew angry and began to chase after Arya.” Joffrey was starting to dart his eyes all over the room, growing more angry as his brother spoke. “I managed to stop Joffrey, subduing him before he hurt Arya any further. Once I realized she was safe I released Joffrey and began to walk away from him, but I hadn’t realized in that moment that he was planning to attack me again till now” Alycilles said with ice in his voice as he stared at a flincing Joffrey. 

“It was then Arya’s direwolf attacked Joffrey. The bite might have been bad, but it’s nothing to lose a head over.” Lord Stark seemed somewhat calmed down but the queen wasn’t having any of her sons' words. 

“And what of your brother who nearly lost his hand to that beast” she said. “He’s a boy, mother. We get into trouble and sometimes those end in consequences. He still has his life, and a moderately functional hand so let it be a lesson for him if he ever wants to be a good king” he said the last part half believing it himself. 

“Well father” the prince said. 

“Wasn’t Sansa there as well. Let's hear what she has to say” the queen said. _Why bother, I already_ _told you what happened._

“Where’s your daughter Ned?” the king asked. “In bed sleeping” the lord responded with. “No she’s not. Sansa, come forward darling” the queen said. Sansa suddenly appeared from out of the crowd hesitantly. She wore the same thing she was in earlier, a blue velvet dress. 

She walked until she was standing just in front of the king and queen, her father just a few feet behind her. 

“Now, tell us what you know girl. Tell it all and true. It’s a great crime to lie to a king.” 

Sansa eyes darted from Joffrey and the queen, then to her father and finally Alycilles. He kept his expression plain keeping his eyes still on hers until she flinched away, turning down to her feet. “I don’t remember. Everything happened so fast I didn’t see-” she didn't get to finish as Arya started pulling her hair wailing, “liar, liar, liar” as they two fought with each other. 

Alycilles closed his eyes as Ned pulled them apart, standing in between the fighting girls as Arya tried to reach out for Sansa who was cowering behind her father’s back. “She’s just as wild as that filthy animal of hers. Robert, I want her punished” Queen Cersei said. _I should have expected mother to be persistent when it involves Joffrey._

“Seven hells” Robert cursed. “What would you have me do, whip her through the streets, dammit, children fight. It’s over. No lasting damage was done.” 

The Queen was furious. 

“Joff will carry these scars for the rest of his life.” 

Robert locked eyes with his eldest son. “So he will. Perhaps they will teach him a lesson. Ned, see that your daughter is disciplined. I will do the same with my boy.” 

Ned nodded his head. Gladly, your grace” he said with vast relief. Prince Alycilles exhaled the breath he was holding in, ready to get some rest, until. “And what of the direwolf” she called out, halting the king from his leave. He turned back and frowned. “I’d forgotten about the damned wolf.” 

Alycilles saw Arya tense up in her father's arms as her face turned to horror. She was scared for Nymeria’s life. 

“We found no trace of the direwolf, your grace, one of Stark's men, Jory said. 

“No? So be it” Robert said quickly, ready to head off but the queen spoke again.

“We have a wolf” she said, her voice quiet with her face lacking emotion but her eyes shone with victory. It took everyone no time to realize what she was talking about. 

“As you will, have Ser Ilyn do it.” Sansa looked at the king, then at the queen. “She doesn’t mean Lady, does she?” Sansa said looking at her father. Ned could only give the girl a sullen look, one a father hates giving their child. 

“Is this your command your grace” Ned shouts out to his oldest friend. The king turned back saying, “Ned, I will hear no more of it,” and proceeded to leave. Sansa began to panic, eyes watering as she tried to hold her tears back. “No, not Lady, Lady didn’t **bite** anyone” she said, her voice rising with each word. “Lady wasn’t there, you leave her alone” Arya shouted angrily. Unbeknownst to them all, Prince Alycilles had left a while ago, sneaking out the hall while the tension was high. 

* * *

It was dark, very dark as the prince and his cousin made it through the camp, trying to be as quiet as they could be as they made their way to the post that Lady was tied to. The young direwolf seemed to perk up at his appearance. 

“Hey there girl” Alycilles said. She wagged her tongue, licking at the prince's hands as he gave her a piece of a bread biscuit he brought. “We don’t have a lot of time before Ser Ilyn shows up,” Tyrek said whispering. 

“Right” responded the prince. He pulled out a dagger, gleaming in the moonlight causing Lady to move back with a whimper. He brought the blade to the wolves leash, cutting the rope as he held the other end still attached to Lady. “alright let's go.” 

They walked into the forest, way past Castle Darry until they were deep into the woods. Lady was oblivious to what was happening as they stood there under the moon, just waiting. “If we are missing too long, people will get suspicious of us” Tyrek decided to input as he looked over his shoulder and around the dark forest.

“Just, give it a second. They always show up when I need them to, no matter how little.” Tyrek didn’t fully understand what his cousin meant but he didn’t have the chance to ask. They soon heard some rustling from the nearby shrubbery in front of them along with soft footsteps. Out came a figure wearing a long black cloak with a dark red dress underneath. The figure stepped into the moonlight as they were able to fully see them. A woman with a small alluring face that Tyrek couldn’t help but stare at as Alycilles stepped forward. 

“My prince. You are in need of assistance?” the woman asked. She had an accent Tyrek noticed. Alycilles nodded his head and held out the leash that was wrapped around Lady. 

“Yes, I need you to take this wolf safely to King’s Landing and hide her. You know the spot, and make sure you're not followed. Use all the secret routes I showed you, just make sure no harm comes to Lady” he said as the direwolf perked up at the prince. She smiled and nodded her head, taking the rope leash the prince held. Lady seems willingly to go, more cooperative and benign than her siblings. “It will be done at once my prince.”

With that the cloaked women left into the darkness of the forest, all trace of her vanishing along with Lady. 

“Alright, we can go now,” Alycilles said, turning on his heel as he put some speed to his steps, racing to return to camp. Tyrek who was still caught in the moment, had to jog to catch up to his cousin. “Who was that back there?” Tyrek asked, rushing to his side.

“Who was what” the prince said as he kept walking. 

“Don’t play dumb. How did you know that women would show up. And how do know she’ll even make it to King’s Landing safely with that wolf?” he asked with a serious tone. 

“Don’t worry about it Tyrek,” Alycilles said flatly not bothering to look at him. Tyrek was about to retort with some sort of comment, but his cousin's tone of voice showed he was in no mood for a questioning. Oftentimes Tyrek found his cousin a strange mysterious man involved with mysterious things that he couldn’t put his tongue too. 


	5. A Royal Return

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With their short vacation away from home, the Baratheons finally make it back home looking to relax, but soon the game of thrones wakes and the players are moving into position.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello everyone I know its been awhile but I managed to finish another chapter. hope everyone who is reading the story so far is enjoying it and I hope you all are staying safe out there with the current events going on.

The Queen was furious when she heard that the direwolf was gone when Lord Stark had left to deal with her. She had accused the lord of releasing the wolf but he had a strong alibi having been followed by some Lannister men to make sure the job was done, but only to discover the wolf gone. When the king heard he laughed and said that the matter was settled as they finally made it back to King’s Landing. 

The king's party entered through the Gate Of The Gods in a single line as crowds of cityfolk gathered to watch the royal party return. The sun was shining bright and the wind was blowing strong. Alycilles was on his horse, Goldy, a bright yellow mare with a mane as white as snow. She was in a gentle gallop bouncing atop the stone ground workings, the sound of her hooves ringing through his ears as they clacked on the ground. 

Princess Saphira was next to him on her own mare, a dark chestnut horse with a silky mane of dark brown, as their cousin and sworn shield to the prince was tailing behind them along with some kingsguard. 

His father was way ahead of them with the rest of the Kingsguard. Alycilles could see Ser Barristan and his uncle next to his father with their cloak resting on their horse's backside. 

Alycilles looked behind him and saw the fancy carriage slowly making its way up the road. His mother was still in there, but this time Joffrey decided to stay within, accompanying their siblings as they looked through the windows onto the people.

The cheering began to change as they began to call out Prince Alycilles’ name, welcoming their silver prince as they would call it. They would even call out for his sister screaming, “silver beauty” as she passed by. She would wave to them, swatting strands of her hair out her face as she smiled brightly, her cheeks turning a rosey color as her dimples imposed upon them. That elicited louder cheers at the sight of her as they waved. 

She moved close to her brother so she could speak her words to him over the loud cheering of the crowd.

“Man they really turned out for our return. And it seems they greatly missed you guys, didn’t know you were this loved” Tyrek said. 

“I guess they still haven’t forgotten what you and I have done for them brother,” she said. 

He looked at her then back onto the people. Alycilles wasn’t surprised really. He and his sister had frequently visited the common folk and seen the troubles and blights they suffered. 

He always wondered why his father would allow his kingdom to fall into such a state, then he learned that he either didn’t care or his mother would insist on not worrying on the rabble of commoners. 

It was something the young Alycilles didn’t understand. Even still he and his sister did the best they could using his own funds he had in the safes of Casterly Rock to help improve the city even if by so little, and the people haven’t forgotten. 

One place that he wanted to change greatly was Flea Bottom. The first time he ever saw the place was when he was out on one of his adventures running away from the Gold Cloaks, playing with some children that ran the streets around here. 

He nearly slipped in some shit that littered the ground as he ran along the street side. 

He kept his balance luckily. 

The smell of the city was also something he resented. This prompted him to talk to his father about fixing the city up but the king disregarded him saying, “a child shouldn’t concern himself with matters of men.” 

The prince remembered that day greatly. He never truly was interested in the politics of the game, but after that slight from his father, he gained a constant interest in the subject. It took a few years of planning but he established a type of a way for the people to dispose of their waste properly. 

As a kid he read many books of the history of Westeros' oldest structures and how their ancient creators forged them up. 

With the help of Varys, he modified an old scroll with the layout of the entirety of King’s landing. The prince told Varys how he wanted to change the underground sewer into an underground aqueduct system that led into the Blackwater bay. He even came up with the idea for buildings around the city that were filled with latrines where people could handle their business. The latrines would have the aqueducts built underneath them that would lead to a connected system that led into the black water, flushing all the city's waste into the waters. It was a brilliant system in the eyes of Varys, and during a council meeting he presented the plans to the small council members with the prince by his side. Jon Arryn was highly impressed with the prince and proclaimed the lad a young genius. Alycilles simply said the idea came to him when he thought of a solution to the problems he discovered throughout the city. 

The queen was baffled that her young boy could come up with something so clever and intricate. She quickly associated it with herself claiming his genius came from her rather than the king. 

When his father heard of his son's doings, he was somewhat furious but when Jon Arryn told him how this would greatly improve the city and please the city folk, he withdrew his anger and let it be. Alycilles thought his father would be proud but it had the opposite effect. 

That moment started the resentment he began to have for his father. He even had an idea to clear out the stench throughout the city and for that he needed resources from across the sea. 

He had asked Jon Arryn to order pounds of incense that they then used to burn away the nauseous smell that polluted the air and replaced it with a more soothing smell. 

The construction of the system he calls the Underwater Drainage Dump is still underway but the people haven’t forgotten. 

Alycilles looked back to his sister. “The grateful always do,” he said. She winked at him and the two began to wave together at the people. The prince would even throw coins out to them as the people dropped to the ground quick to pick them up. 

* * *

Joffrey looked out onto the streets from inside the carriage watching, but his attention wasn’t on the people, but at his brother as the citizens cheered for him. _It should be me they are cheering for. My name they should be chanting, not Alycilles_ he thought. He would fidget and move around in his seat annoyingly in his fit his eyes never leaving his brother. The Queen mother couldn’t help but notice her son's nuanced anger. 

“Mother, can I ride with Alycilles and Saphira?” Prince Tommen asked. “Stay where you are Tommen” the queen responded back with, never looking away from her son atop his golden horse. Her other children seem to be on their best behavior, smiling as they watched their siblings. The affection the common folk had on her twins were very apparent to the queen. On many occasions she would try to get them to have the same affection for her crown lion, Joffrey, by offering them gifts in his name but for some reason it would never stick. Giving them gifts no matter how disgusted she was with it would never do the job proper and they would favor her second son instead. 

* * *

The Red Keep came into view as they passed through the gates into the outer yard. 

The king had rode on ahead and already entered the Red Keep in a fast haste. The prince and his sister along with their two personal guards, Tyrek, and Ser Arys Oakheart made their way through the Red Keep and to their chambers within the royal wing.

“Feels good to be home and back in some warmer weather. Thought we’d be spending our nameday in the north” the princess said. 

“Oh, lost interest in the north already?” Alycilles asked. 

“No, there’s nothing wrong with the place, but everyone I know is here in King’s Landing, and I doubt they’ll travel north for little ol me. Or maybe they would” she said smirkingly. 

They made their way into the princes chambers, leaving their two swornshields behind to stand guard outside their room. Saphira walked into the room after her brother, and turned to close the door, peering out at Tyrek as she gave him a smile, slowly closing the door as her face disappeared from his sight. It shut with a click as the princess turned with her back against the door. 

“I have to admit, I agree with you when it comes to being home for our nameday. I’m not missing out in the tourney I’m sure our father will plan” the prince said.

“Oh yes, I heard mother say something about that. Apparently a whole handful of knights are arriving for this tourney especially. I overheard her say to father that she thinks you shouldn’t take part in it though” the princess said sarcastically. 

The prince tilted his head up to the ceiling and let out a groan. 

“Does mother purposely forget that I've taken part in many tourneys before. I used to think she babied Joffrey but every now and then she strengthens her clutches on us just to remind us we are her children too” he said. 

“Aw, she's only looking out for her silver prince. I’ve noticed how she flaunted you around when we were younger to the noble ladies and their daughters. She really liked showing you off, so she wants to make sure your goods.. go undamaged” Saphira said with a giggle.

“I used to hate that. How she would parade me around them. Those ladies were a little too touchy and always wanted to be close to me.They would always say how I looked more Targaryen than Lannister. Gods I hated it. The comparisons. I remember how Joffrey would grow jealous and snip my hair afterwards teasing me all for it” he said. 

“I remember that,” Saphira said with a laugh. "I would never be surprised to see you with long hair one day and then short hair the very next” she replied. 

“Mother would coddle Joffrey like he could do no wrong, never punishing him or have him take any form of responsibility. I sometimes despise her for it, how cruel it may sound” Saphira said slowly. 

The prince didn’t speak but strolled over to his dresser, changing out of the clothes he had on and into something simpler like a pair of black ankle cuff cotton pants and a well designed cotton shirt with a button collar. His sister had sat down at the table near the far left side of the room near the window as she peered out into the city seemingly comfortable as her brother changed.

“So are you planning on visiting them today?” she asked softly so only her brother could hear. 

“Maybe. I don’t know yet. If I do, I take it you want to join me?” he said as he buttoned up his trousers. 

“And you have a problem with that,” she said playfully.

“Of Course not,” he said. 

He strolled over to his mirror and picked up a nearby comb and worked it through his hair as he studied himself in the mirror. 

Him and his sister shared a likeness to their mother. Chiseled jawline and exquisite cheekbones and hair that grew long and curled. 

His hair had grown a little since their trip. It now fell to the lower end of his neck and was beginning to curl together more. _I’m sure mother will want to get her hands through this_ he thought as he combed it to his liking. 

The two in the right light looked like trueborn Lannisters, their hair often taking on a golden color that seemed to glow in the sun. 

A knock suddenly came to the door as the two casually glanced towards it. “My prince, a messenger from the small council” Tyrek spoke out from behind the door. 

“Very well. Come in” Alycilles said. 

The door opened and in came the small council messenger, the man who would always inform him of when he had to uptake his role as a council member. A slim man with short greasy black hair and a pointed nose. As he came in he was somewhat surprised to see the princess there as he did a double take to her when he came in. He bowed to the both of them and spoke. "My prince, Grand Maester Pycelle has called for a meeting of the small council and your appearance is requested.” 

The prince looked to his sister who smiled and nodded at him as she played around with some items on his table top and then he looked back to the messenger.

“Very well, I’ll be there,” he said. The man bowed again and proceeded to leave the chambers closing the door behind him. “Well, I guess I have to deal with this first. I’ll see you after” Alycilles said to Saphira. 

The princess simply waved her tiny finger in his direction as she stayed seated. 

* * *

Prince Alycilles walked through the great hall finding it quiet and desolate. The only thing that seemed to have it’s own presence was the Iron Throne itself. As he walked he stared at it. 

The thing terrified him when he was younger. The first time he saw it, he thought it was more of a monster than a chair for a king. The thing reached high nearly touching the ceiling. The mountainous region of swords that loomed over him still looked sharp to the touch. As kids Joffrey would drag a younger Alycilles to the throne so they could look at the thing. Joffrey would dare him to touch the chair and would tease him for being afraid to do so. “That's why I’m going to be king and not you scaredy baby,” he would say. 

Later on in life the thing started to fascinate him instead of scare, as he would sometimes catch himself locked staring at it. He did find some comfort in the throne room from the tapestries his father had hanging above the columns. He use to stare at them for hours, imagining the stories they showed play out in his head. The records of his fathers victories, his own glory recorded for the whole keep to see. The tapestry depicting the Battle of The Trident was his favorite, with his father looming over a dead Rhaegar Targaryan. It felt strange. Living in the home of those his family conquered, seeing all the that they left behind, but he grew over it.

He found himself passing the throne and entered the hallway behind it leading to the small council chambers, his feet echoing against the walls of the hallway. 

He was quite early, but he saw that there were those here earlier than him. “Ahh, you're quite early Prince Alycilles” Baelish said. Alycilles walked over to the table and took his seat near the center next to where his father would sit. The sun was shining into the room brightly as the table was struck with the sun rays that pierced the window. The air in the room was stuffy and the prince was almost tempted to open a window. 

“I was planning on taking a nap, but the safety of the kingdom comes first” he said in an almost sarcastic tone. Varys slightly raised his head, and Baelish simply gave his usual wide faced grin. After that his uncle Renly came strolling in. “About time you showed uncle, I thought you’d be taking a nap around this time,” he sneered at the man. His uncle was lean and sported short black hair with the workings of a beard forming in.

“You know me nephew. I need a good rest if I’m to have any energy for your nameday” he chuckled. Shortly after Lord Stark came walking in. Varys was the first one to greet the lord, reaching his powdered hand out to him. 

“Lord Stark.”

“Lord Varys.”

“I was grievously sorry to hear of your troubles on the Kings Road. We are praying for Prince Joffrey's recovery.” The prince happened to be sitting right behind where Varys was standing so he couldn’t see Ned Stark.

Ned removed his hand from Varys. 

“Shame you didn’t say a prayer for the butcher's boy” Stark said as he made his way around Varys. Prince Alycilles snickered to himself, but immediately stopped as he remembered the butcher's boy. Mycah was killed, ridden down by the hound. He didn’t really know the boy, but he was Arya's friend and still just a boy. Whenever he thought about it the pits of his stomach would ache. Stark walked up to Renly who had open arms and a smile for him. Renly, you're looking well” Stark said. 

“And you still look tired from the road. I told them we could of postponed this meeting-”

“But we have a kingdom to look after” the prince interjected as he turned his face towards the two. 

“Good to see you again Lord Stark, seems we made it to King’s Landing in one piece.” 

Ned looked towards the prince having just now noticed the boy, eyes widened. 

“Prince Alycilles, I wasn’t expecting to see you here,” he said.

“Well, my uncle Stannis has been in Dragonstone for some time, so i’ve taken the liberty of foreseeing over the role of Master of Ships you see” the prince said. “Ahh, and how do you take to the position?” Lord Stark asked as he scruffed his beard. 

The prince shrugged. 

“It’s not that challenging. I’ve managed to utilize the fleet quite efficiently, using them to maintain goods and such. Every now and then pirates loom on our sails but it's nothing our fleet can’t handle” he said. 

At that a man standing in front of the table coughed and spoke up as the prince finished speaking. 

“I’ve hoped to meet you for some time now Lord Stark. No doubt Lady Catelyn has mentioned me.” 

“She has Lord Baelish. I understand you knew my brother as well.” 

“All too well. I still have a token of his esteem, from navel to collarbone” he said. Lord Stark smirked. 

“Perhaps you chose the wrong man to duel,” Stark said.

“It wasn’t the man I chose my lord, but it was Catelyn Tully, a woman worth fighting for I'm sure you’ll agree.” 

Lord Stark looked at him with a stone face but didn’t say a word. Alycilles simply stayed quiet, wondering where Baelish found the courage to talk about a man's wife so openly. 

“I humbly beg your pardon my Lord Stark,” Pycelle spoke up as his chains rattled against each other. 

“How many years has it been? You were a young man” the old maester said.

Stark gave him a wide grin that seemed to be only for himself. 

“And you, who served another king.”

Pycelle paused for a second then turned away from the lord and into his wooly cloak, fumbling for something within it. 

“Oh how could I forget. This is for you,” the Grand Maester said holding out a pin feebly to the lord of Winterfell. He took the pin and held it in his hand, staring at it before he pin it to his vest. 

“Shall we begin.” 

Alycilles looked around the table he sat at and onto the people that made up the small council of the capitol. 

His eyes looked onto Varys. He’s known the man ever since he was born, having been tutored by him when he was younger on the histories of Westeros when his uncle, Tyrion couldn’t. He trusted Varys, but he knew he had his own secrets, like everyone who frequents the Red Keep, the man was smarter then he led on to be. As Alycilles grew older, and he learned the ways of the game, he learned of just what position the man held. Masters of whispers wasn’t just an elusive nickname he heard people call towards the man. Varys truly was a master of secrets and held power that the prince never thought of. 

Information. 

Information could be just as useful as a sword, the prince soon came to find out. He learned about Varys' spies and the ones he had in the keep, and even a street kid who he made friends with who he came to find out was a spy for the spider. The prince took it to learn from Varys, finding keeping information could be a useful key for unlocking doors. 

His eyes shifted next to Peter Baelish and they narrowed when they did. This was a man the prince was wary of. 

At first Baelish just seemed like a man who was in it strictly for business. He played his part well for the kingdom when he needed too, using his talent to bring coin into the coffers using his many establishments. His mother warned him to stay away from the man saying he had no business dealing with a man who associated work with brothels. 

It was only when he asked his uncle Tyrion what a brothel was and he forever had a different perspective on Peter Baelish. He didn’t seem dangerous but the prince recognized the hunger he had in his eyes, and often came off mischievous. 

Next was Pycelle, the old maester had been a resident in the Red Keep for many years and was the one who helped birth the prince and his siblings. The man was obviously loyal to the Lannisters and wouldn’t think twice about going against their wishes. He's been ever so helpful with the prince in his endeavors. _He could be useful in the future_ the prince thought. 

Next to him one chair down past the one his father would sit was his Uncle Renly. The prince had a love for his uncle, in fact he could say he was one of his favorites, though the man rarely took matters seriously. Renly basically shaped the prince's interest, dragging him all over Westeros showing him all it has to offer. 

If it wasn’t for Renly, he probably would have never formed a bond with Margaery. Thinking on her brought a smile to his face that he hoped no one noticed.

Everyone settled in their chairs ready to begin with the meeting of the small council, all of them being looked upon by Lord Stark who was looking around as if he had forgotten something. “Without the king” he said. 

“Winter may be coming but I'm afraid the same cannot be said about my brother” Renly said to him. 

“My father entrusted most of the political business of the seven kingdoms to us. Truth be told he hasn't appeared for a meeting in a while” the prince had spoken up next. 

Ned looked at the prince being stunned by his friend's lack of care for the kingdom he rules. 

“His grace has many cares. He entrusts some small matters to us, so we may lighten the load” Varys said with a sly smile. 

“We are the lords of small matters here” Baelish says, his nose turned up. They had all spoken, one after the other as if it was a rehearsed speech they delivered a number of times. 

Renly passed lord stark some type of parchment. Stark took it with a cough and unraveled the paper. 

“My brother wishes for us to stage a tourney in honor of my nephew and nieces nameday coming up” Renly said. Ned looked at the prince.

“Your nameday is coming up?” he asked. 

“Aye. one and five. Father always makes these things happen ever since I became knighted. I’m not complaining though, it’s a good way to test my mettle” the prince said. 

“Hmm well, I hope we can afford it,” Ned said. 

“How much?” Baelish asked, looking towards Stark. 

“Forty thousand gold dragons to the champion of the melee, thirty thousand to the winner of the joust, twenty thousand to the runner up, and twenty thousand to the winner of the archery contest.”

“Can the treasury bear such an expense?” Pycelle asked aloud. 

“It can now thanks to Prince Alycilles” Baelish said with a wide pressed smile. Ned raised his eyebrows as he looked at Baelish then to the prince. 

“What’s he on about?” Stark asked. 

The prince was quite relaxed in his chair, one leg hanging over the arm rest while he leaned into the cushion on the backrest. He shifted his back as he smiled reminiscing on a memory. 

“Some time ago I was shipped off to Casterly Rock by my mother after Joffrey and I had one of our brotherly squabbles.” The Lords at the table seem to each give their own expression at the prince's comment knowing the sour relationship the two brothers have. 

“Yes. you and your brother sure do have a unique way of…. bonding” Baelish said as his mustache twirled upwards.

Stark looked back to the prince as he continued his story. 

“Everyone knows of the gold mines of Casterly Rock, but what most don’t know is the mines are nearly depleted. Along with that, the crown has also been in debt to The Rock with our own treasury depleted. 

Ned’s eyes widen. “Then how could Robert be hosting so many extravagant events?” Lord Stark asked. Alycilles gave a little smirk as his lips raised. 

“One day, my sister and I, along with some of our cousins were playing in the waters searching for gold we imagined were lost in them when one of them, I don’t remember which cousin started it, but we somehow got the idea to jump off from the tallest peak of The Rock. From the bottom of Lannisport The Rock doesn’t seem that big but once you reach the very top… lets just say most would have turned tail when they saw that drop.

I can still hear my sister begging me not to do it, but the encouragement of my cousins helped me take that dive. Long story short. I jumped. And plunged deep within the cold waters. I sunk low. Very low that if I hadn’t sucked in enough air I might have drowned. I was about to swim up to the surface before I ran out of air but something down there caught my eye. A nice sized whole right on the side of the rock was very visible with the cold depths and I found something calling me to it so I swam into it and followed the path. I found myself looking at a massive cave where I was able to catch my breath. I don't know how I found it, it might have been the work of the gods leading me but there it was, a lost cave about the size of the throne room itself, untouched with walls of shiny yellow. Safe to say my grandfather forgave me for my actions, once I guided his miners to my findings.” 

The prince smirked upon remembering the day. 

“Shoulda seen my sisters face when I resurfaced. Now the crown has enough funding for a long while” Alycilles said. 

“So we can go through with the planning,” Baelish said as he brought forward an ink quill and piece of paper in front of him.

“I’ll leave the matter for you guys to settle,” Lord Stark said. “Well if there’s nothing else, I say this small council is convened” he says, relieved. 

The prince was the first to leave after Stark, “my lords,” he said as he took his leave. The prince made it out of the small council chambers and found himself running into Lord Stark waiting for him outside. 

“My prince, I was hoping I could have a word with you?” he asked. _Hmm, I wonder what he wants._

“Sure Lord Stark. What is it? Stark straightened his back as he began to speak. “I didn’t get the chance to speak with you properly since Winterfell, but I wanted to get a look at you. See how you’ve grown since the last nine years” he said. 

“So what do you see then” the prince said, as he remembered what Arya had said back at the feast. 

“From what your father speaks of you, I hear you're quite the young man. He says you take your duty as a prince seriously” Ned said.

“Most people think us royals live carefree lives. Not many realize that a prince has many duties and responsibilities of their own. My father has learned that I am not some little child anymore” the prince said with a hint of annoyance. 

“Hmm, I remember how he was when we stormed the shores of Pyke. He was in a serious fury that day. Cutting down Ironborn after Ironborn just to reach you” Stark spoke. The prince listened to him as he talked, hearing the story of his father's attempt to save him interested him a little. 

“I don’t remember much. I only remember encountering my uncle and Ser Barristan on the field” Alycilles said. 

“Aye, once it was all said and done, we were finally able to recover you. I remember your uncle walking up to us as he held you. Your father heard of your heroics during the fighting and wanted to knight you right then and there” Stark said. 

The prince snickered, almost unwillingly, surprising himself. “Sounds like my father,” he said. 

“He was very proud of you that day,” Stark finished. With that the prince was silent before he spoke again. 

“If you would excuse me Lord Stark but I have some task to attend too” he said. 

“Ofcourse” Ned said and walked away. The prince found himself back into the throne room where a certain princess was there waiting. 

“I take it your little meeting is over then,” the silvered haired princess said absently as she twirled in place playing with her dress. She wasn’t looking at her brother, too busy having fun with herself, twirling her skirt around with her movements. 

“Sweet sister, the safety and security of our lives is far from little.” 

She stopped in place, looking at him as she passionately placed a hand across her heart.

“Oh, forgive me my brave protector, what shall I ever do without you” she said, exaggerating her voice like a proper lady with a hint of charm. She skipped across the throne room with the prince following her skirt tail. 

“So are we finally heading to the Lady in Reds’ place of business?” Saphira asked. Alycilles looked at her as they walked, a little befundled with the words she used. 

“You mean the Red Chapel?” he said. 

“Yes, whatever cover they want to use. Though it is one of the more interesting places in Kings Landing” Saphira said. As they walked through the halls of the Red Keep, the inhabitants were in a flow of traffic, running each and every way on whatever task they were on. The Gold Cloaks were in their usual patterns of patrol, occasionally greeting the prince and princess with a nod. “How does it feel to be back in your natural element now that the vacations over” Alycilles said. 

“I actually started to miss the ramble of the snobbing nobles. The north really clears the way of the snakes and vipers that stalk our noble fields” she said. “I might miss Robb Stark even if we don’t marry, though with his character he wouldn’t survive King’s Landing very long, or me” she said coyly. 

“Hmph, Let's hope his father is of the smarter character. He'll need to be if he wants to hold a place here” Alycilles said. 

They met up with Tyrek and left for the inner city of King’s Landing.

The three of them made their stroll through the city, wearing cloaks to cover their appearance, and walking through random street corners of the city to confuse anyone who could be following them. With the uncommon look of the twins, it would be easy for them to stand out amongst a crowd of commoners and be spotted. 

It was a good hour of turning random corners before they felt safe and made it to the streets of sisters, watching their backs whenever they turned a corner waiting to see if anyone came. Tyrek knows of the caution members of the royal family go through whenever they are out in the public eye, but the type of caution these two were having had Tyrek wary, especially with them being in a place they call home.

The three walked past the guildhalls of the alchemist, old masters who the prince had paid a visit too time from time. With it right next to the Red Temple it was very convenient. They found themselves stopped in front of a building towards the center of the street of sisters. The thing was three stories high and was probably the biggest building on the street and was kept in a good state. 

“Odd building as always” Tyrek said. “So will I be able to join you guys this time or must I stand guard as usual.”

“If you already know the drill then why ask” Saphira said somewhat condescendingly, as she and her brother walked up the wooden steps. Tyrek simply turned around and stood rolling his eyes at her comment as the two made their way inside. He watched as Alycilles opened the door casually and disappeared along with his sister, leaving the swornshield alone. 

The door shut behind the two as they were greeted to the sight of a waiting woman in red down a long hallway. The way leading to her was decorated with red carpet with darker lining stitched onto the far sides and a flowery pattern flowing all across it. 

The hallway itself was lit with torches that burned bright red, revealing the red banners of a fiery heart lining the halls. At the end of the hall the women in the red dress were waiting for them standing in front of an open doorway with a curtain hanging in the absence of a door. The two strolled forward, coming close to the woman that was patiently waiting for them with a seductive smile on her face. “Welcome back Prince Alycilles. Princess Saphira. Allow me to take your cloaks for you” she said.

The two took off their cloaks revealing the attire they were wearing. No other in King’s Landing could afford the quality of clothing they wore. The prince wanted to throw on some rags as disguises but his sister said she wouldn’t be caught dead wearing stained rags so they made a trip back to their chambers to find something more suitable. 

Prince Alycilles was wearing a blazing blood red Jerkin with golden buttons holding it together riding down his chest. His pants were a dark tan that complemented well with each other. The princess had on a red dress with gold trimming riding down the sides that stopped just before touching the ground. “Thank you Serese. I take it Kinvara is awaiting us?” the prince said. 

“Yes, my prince” she said. 

With that the two stepped through the red curtain, pushing it out their way as a whole new area of the chapel was revealed. Inside the oval shaped room, the walls were lined with more of those flaming heart banners behind a red painted wall. There were many red ladies sitting on cushioned sofas smoking from pipes as smoke left their mouths. 

The smell in the air was that of something of a fruity smell and another that he couldn’t place but made his head fuzzy when it hit his nostrils. The dresses they wore were thin and more like a veil, barely concealing their womanly figures. The twins looked around barely stunned at what they were seeing, in fact the two seem to be in an almost state of comfort here. They walked forward towards a woman standing in the center of the room, a white pedestal formed where she stood, seeming to have been built before the building was. There was a bowl of sorts atop the pedestal, quiet with inactivity. 

“Welcome Prince Alycilles, princess Saphira. We’ve been waiting for your return” she said bowing, lifting her dress with both of her hands. She wore a tight blood red dress that clung to her body greatly with the top revealing her cleavage that the prince found appealing. 

“Kinvara, I see you and your priestess have made some improvements to this place” the prince said as he looked around. The place looked like a traditional temple, but the many aspects of the red faith were foreign to him. 

She smiled. “All to serve the Lord of Light, and his chosen” she responded with. “So, what made you decide to come back my prince. I knew you wouldn’t give up on our teachings so easily” she said. 

“I still have an interest in the Lord Of Light, so you'll be seeing me a lot more. As to why I’m here, you said I should pay you a visit when I get back so here we are” he said.

“So, you considered continuing our teachings under the true lord. Your progress has been superb to say. Would be a shame to halt it now” she said, her voice sultry to his ears. She tempted him before, filling his ears with secrets of her ancient culture, and he would always bite, curiosity always becoming of him. He pondered her words for a minute. 

“I’ll admit, little tricks like casting fire within the palm of my hands is nice, but I still follow the faith of the seven.” 

Kinvara smiled, her lips curving high as she looked deeply into the prince's eyes. “Of Course my prince, but eventually all will come to know the one true god.”

“R’hllor?” Saphira said. 

“That's right my princess. Your interest has grown greatly since your last visit” the high priestess said with a smile towards the princess. Saphira slightly smiled herself as she turned her head away from Kinvara. 

Her words lingered on his mind. Ever since he came upon this place, and met Kinvara, he found he had an insatiable interest with this Lord Of Light she's been preaching to him. 

It even came to the point where he told his sister about it and brought her here to see them as well. She soon found herself with an obsession with the Lord of Light too and developed a sort of connection to Kinvara. Kinvara acted as if she knew this would happen and informed them that this was the path they were supposed to be on. He didn't know why but he felt like she wasn’t lying when she spoke those words. Now he and his sister have been secretly learning all they could on the subject. They did it in secret knowing if the faith found out about this little interest they have, they would be called out as blasphemers, and that wouldn’t be a good look for their family. 

“And what has this god shown you. Does your Lord of Light show you more visions of the future?” he asked. 

Kinvara’s expression didn’t change as she walked over to the pedestal that held the bowl. “Come my prince and princess, come see what the flames have to show” Kinvara said. 

The two weren’t hesitant in the least, following Kinvara’s command as they walked up to her and the pedestal. They stopped once they got close enough then watched as the head priestess took out a small knife. 

“A little king’s blood if you will my prince” she said. 

He stepped forward closer to the bowl. It was empty, not even a piece of wood or embers to start a fire. He raised his hand and held out a single finger to which the high priestess took and sliced with one quick motion. Blood trickled down from the cut, like rain droplets falling into the bowl. 

Kinvara began chanting some words in a language the prince knew as valyrian as she brought both of her hands forward to the bowl. Alycilles noticed that the other red priestess were standing around them in a circle chanting along with their head mistress. The torches that were lighting the room began to flicker as the shadows danced around them, growing smaller then bigger as the flames died out then came back to life. 

Suddenly a fire erupted within the bowl. 

The prince's blood was morphing into red flames as they danced at incredibles heights before them nearly reaching the ceiling. 

Saphira gasped as the sudden eruption startled her, and took a step back behind her brother, clutching his arm as the flames reflected off her eyes. 

“Come my prince. Princess. Come see what the flames have to show you” Kinvara said. The prince looked back to his sister as she shivered under his gaze. 

“I can handle this,” she said. 

Her shivering stilled as the sweat stopped beading down her face as she calmed her breathing and stepped forward along with Alycilles, stopping just before the flames as they whipped just out of their reach. The flames didn’t bother Alycilles, in fact they were inviting. 

As their eyes were entranced by the flames dance, Kinvara slowly moved just behind the two.

“Look into the flames young ones and see what the future holds” she said as her whispers ran through their ears. The whispers slowly changed from the soft, feminine tone of the mistress, to something more incoherent and rough. As they watched on, the flames seemed to change for them. 

“Even you two will come to the Lord of Light. The flames show it. Your paths are destined for it” she said. They continued to watch as the light reflected in their green-blue eyes.

About two hours passed by before the two reunited back with Tyrek who had turned to sitting down on the bottom step as he waited. He was holding his head up with his arms when the two emerged. Alycilles allowed his sister to walk out first as he slammed the door after him, causing the sworn shield to jump to his feet in a surprise.

“Sleeping on the job, cousin” Saphira teased. 

“About time. I was starting to get some looks as I sat here” he said. 

“Looks from who?” Alycilles asked as he made his way down the steps. Tyrek looked up to his cousin who had a curious gaze on his face. 

“Just some kids playing. They ran off when I caught them staring at me” he said. Alcyilles turned to his sister who had done the same as they grew expressionless faces and narrow eyes. “Interesting,” Saphira said. “Well, lets head back then,” the prince said. 

As the three made their way back to the Red Keep walking the road toward Aegon’s high hill they began to notice sailing banners with sigils that weren’t a stag or a lion. 

“It seems people are already arriving for the tourney then” Tyrek said. Many knights and households arriving for the upcoming tourney were present amongst the city folk heading themselves to the Red Keep. 

“The Martells and their pierced sun, the Redwynes, the Freys, and even the golden flower of Highgarden” Tyrek said as he looked at all the knights proudly displaying their houses' sigils. The princess slyly turned to her brother to which he noticed and let out a sigh. 

“You hear that brother, it seems members of the Tyrell family are here” she teased. The prince tried to hide his blushing face but it didn’t help with his sister leaning into him.

Tyrek was confuse at first but made a face when he figured it out. “Oh I get it now. I thought the smell of flowers grew a little” Tyrek jested causing Saphira to chuckle. The prince sighed once more. 

“The Red Keep is going to be quite full” Alycilles spoke.


	6. Tourneys, Promises, and Things in Between

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The beginning of the Twin's Tourney have started, and Prince Alycilles has preparations to settle, and meet old friends.

Since the arrival of so many competitors from all across Westeros looking to gain some glory and make names for themselves in the nameday tourney, trouble began to brew within King’s Landing. The prince found himself at another council meeting hearing about these notions from Janos Slynt, the captain of the Gold Cloaks. 

“It's the Twins Tourney, the city is packed and more people are flooding in everyday. Last night we had a tavern riot, a brothel fire, three stabbings and a drunken horse race down the street of sisters,’’ he recited. 

“Dreadful” Varys chimed in. 

“If you can’t keep the peace, perhaps the city watch should be commanded by someone who can,” Renly says, popping a grape in his mouth as he eyed Slynt. “I need more men,” Janos abruptly said. 

“You’ll get fifty, commander, Lord Baelish will see it paid for,” the hand said. Alycilles looked towards the commander of the city guard, leaning forward on the table to peer closely at Slynt. 

“There's more to it than just commanding more men, commander. You need to prioritize your men fluidly, station them at key parts of the city and have them keep a constant patrol in those districts. Have them maintain the patrol around those districts so they can have eyes on each side. It’s not about how many men you have but using them effectively,” the prince said in a stern commanding tone of one of his station. 

The commander of the city watch looked a little taken aback, having trouble finding his voice. The rest of the council members simply stayed quiet as they raised their chins towards Slynt. 

“As you command, my prince,” Janos said with a bow. 

“I’ll also give you twenty of my own guard until the tournament is over, so put them to good use,” Lord Stark said, rubbing his forward. 

“Thank you my lord hand ser, I won't waste this charity.” 

The commander made his way out of the council chambers, leaving the remaining members back to their discussion. 

“The sooner this is over the better” the hand said as he took a sip of water from his cup. 

“The realm prospers from such events my lord. They give the great a chance at glory, and the lowly a respite from their woes” the spider said trying to find reason with Lord Stark. 

“And every inn is packed full and the whores are walking bow legged” Baelish said. A snicker escaped the prince's pressed lips, but the council members caught wind. Renly found this amusing.

“We're fortunate my brother Stannis is not with us. Remember the time he proposed to outlaw brothels? The king asked him if we should outlaw breathing and shitting as well. I often wonder how Stannis ever got that ugly daughter of his,” the storm lord said with a wide grin. His nephew eyed him fiercely as he heard his uncle speak with hardly any tone of regret. 

“Careful uncle. That girl is your niece, your blood and mine. A child of innocence and I won’t hear you make her the center of your jape,” the prince said, his words slow and cold. It was silent for a while, until Renly, looking a little shook finally said, “of course.” 

“Well if we have nothing else to discuss my lords,” Stark said, getting up from his chair. Everyone followed suit and left the chambers. 

The prince took his once the other councillors left, wishing to be last to leave. On his way towards the door, he noticed Ned Stark staying behind to talk to Pycelle. Their words were quiet,as they were talking close, but he had no interest in their talk.

He ignored it and found himself trailing down the hall to find Tyrek waiting for him, casually with his hand on his hilt while he adjusted the leathers he wore. 

“Alright, I think it's time to settle the wolf matter with Sansa,'' the prince said.

“Right, I nearly forgot about that wolf. Are you sure you alluded the queen” Tyrek said. 

“Well enough. Keep your eyes peeled. We're not in the clear yet cousin, you never know when you’ll catch the attention of the Red Keeps many lurkers” the prince said, eyeing the area. 

The two made their way to the chambers Sansa Stark were settled at. Sansa’s room was easy to find as he knew which way led to which rooms.

“I believe this is her room,” the prince said knocking on the door in front of him loudly. It was silent for a while with the only amount of sound coming from behind the door. 

They heard the door unlocking, and with a slow pull the door creaked open halfway. One blue eye peered through the crack, and when she saw who it was, her eyes widened as she pulled the door fully open revealing herself in a deep blue gown. 

“My prince. What do I owe this surprise visit” the redhead said with a curtsy. 

“Come lady Sansa. Let us take a walk,” he told her charmingly, holding out his hand to her. Like an obedient subject, she grasped his hand and wrapped her arm around his own. 

She saw his sworn shield standing to the side wearing his red leather armor with a roaring lion on his chest, as he kept a good distance. 

“You remember my cousin, Ser Tyrek,” Alycilles said. She nodded her head. “Good to see you ser” she said. 

“Likewise my lady” Tyrek responded back with. They strolled through the halls of the Red Keep, the prince leading her through unfamiliar parts of the castle. The hallways were surprisingly quiet and they hardly ran into anyone. Those who did cross their paths simply gave them a glance and looked away. 

“Tell me Lady Sansa. How have you taken to King’s Landing. I hope the ladies of the court have been treating you nicely.” She perked up at his question. 

“Yes, the whole place is marvelous, and court is just how I thought it would be. Your sister has been showing me around and introducing me to her many lady friends. Winterfell was never this grand, and the warmth is welcoming too,” she said. Her face was full of excitement at the prospect of what King’s Landing offered her. 

“Yes, you have the temperament of a southern girl, and the beauty,” he said, locking eyes with hers. The girl's face turned the shade of crimson as she avoided his gaze but the smile on her face was obvious. 

“Your words are too kind my prince,” she said, caressing his arm unwittingly. Whether she meant to do it or not the prince didn’t mind. _Such a beauty wasted on Joffrey_. 

“Tell me Sansa. What do you think of my mother?” he asked. The mention of the queen must have brought up cold memories as she began to sulk. She peered her head behind her and saw Tyrek was keeping a steady distance behind them, but he was fully alert for anything it seemed with his hand on his hilt. 

“Don’t worry about him. I promise anything you say will be between just you and me,” he spoke as he noticed her wandering eyes. 

“The queen is a great beauty and is very kind to me,” she spoke but the words sounded almost shaky.

“Hmm, she wasn’t kind when she sentenced your direwolf to death,” he said flatly.

Her face contorted from quick rage to sorrow and to a plain look all in the second the prince finished speaking. She didn’t speak, just simply kept her head down as they walked. 

“Come now Sansa. Tell me how you truly feel about it, and don’t lie like you did at Castle Darry” he said. 

She locked eyes with him and this time she didn’t cower under his gaze. She held strong and the prince was slightly impressed at her unyielding eyes. 

“It was wrong,” she said strongly. 

“Lady didn’t do anything and the queen had her killed anyway. She didn’t deserve that” the Stark maiden said, letting a tear run down her cheek. _So there’s some bite to this wolf._

He quickly whipped the tear away from her delicate face and gave her a smile. Sansa looked at him a little confused.

“It was wrong, but Lady was gone when your father went to do the deed, correct” he said.

“Even still. She’s probably out there, scared and alone,” Sansa sniffled. 

“My lady, that's why I brought you here,” he said. 

Their walk had taken them to a far off corner of the Red Keep, and were now stopped in front of a wooden door with a crown stag carved into the woodwork. He saw the confusion, and wonder on her face when she turned to him. 

“This is one of the rooms I occupy from time to time,” he told her. 

“Tyrek. Can you stand guard?” he asked his cousin. 

“I’ll be out here” Tyrek spoke as he turned and stood in front of the door. With that the prince turned the door handle and opened it, the thing barely making a sound. The main portion of the room was split into two separate areas connected by a short hallway. The Stark girl seemed hesitant at first but as she looked at the prince, his smile reassured her, and she gracefully followed his lead. 

* * *

The door closed behind her and she studied the room as the prince walked towards the connecting hallway. There was a furnished long chair, big enough for multiple people to sit on, and a balcony looking onto the outskirts and courtyards of the Red Keep. Sansa found herself slowly walking towards the open area, the day time cool air whipping into her face. The sun was out, giving the city a yellow glow. She was stopped in her tracks when she heard the prince speak out. 

“You can come out now,” he said aloud. Alycilles stood in the center of the room as Sansa moved to stand next to him. They stood silent as the sounds of pitter pattering feet silently rang off the cobblestone. The wagging of the wolf tongue and her breathing filled the room. 

The prince turned his face to hear Sansa gasping who now had both of her hands up to her face. Before them came a woman wearing a red cloak with the hood down. A woman with olive skin and straight auburn hair.

She had in her hands a leash that was attached to an excited wolf. Sansa bent down and Lady rushed to her side, engulfing her mistress with wet licks all over her face and hands.

“But how?” she asked aloud looking at the cloaked women and then to the prince. He bent down next to her and lady, “I was the one who freed Lady before your father could get to her, then I had my friend here safely escort Lady back here, where she’s been keeping excellent care of her,”. 

Lady hearing her name spoken more and more, saw her attention turning to the prince, whipping her face to him, trying to put a couple licks on him. 

He rubbed her soft fur, the wolf laying on her back as he rubbed her stomach. _Her fur is soft as silk_ he thought. Sansa bent down close to him as she layed on her knees. “She really likes you,” the Stark girl said. 

“She's a spirited thing” the prince said as he dodged Ladies tongue each time she darted for his face. They played with Lady for a while, the two of them sitting together on the furnished seating with Lady resting in between Sansa’s legs. 

“Now Sansa, you will be able to come here as many times as you like. When you're not visiting Lady, my friend here will watch her for you” he says waving his hand towards the cloaked women. 

“I am at your service, my lady,” she said. 

Sansa looked at the cloaked women hesitant for a second then spoke the words, “thank you,” to her. 

“And thank you as well Alycilles. This is the best gift anyone could give me.” 

She wrapped her arms around his neck and gave him a close hug slightly sniffling into his shoulder. When she released herself from him she found herself placing a long peck on his cheeks. “Just make sure my mother doesn’t find out,” he said. She looked at him almost shocked as she realized something. 

“You disobeyed her. Your mother” she asked as if he committed a crime. “That I did,” he said casually. Her open mouth and wide eyes gave her such an innocent look.

“But, she’s your mother. Aren’t you supposed to do as she says.

“Maybe, but my mother has a habit of going to the extreme on things that don’t warrant it. I couldn’t watch an innocent animal fall under her wroth” the prince said. 

Sansa looked up to him, marveled by the princes’ mercy. She wanted to speak and say more but she couldn’t find the words to express herself. 

“Well I'll leave you here so you can have some time together” he said. He stood and pressed his pants down and was going to head for the door but felt Sansa grab his hand. Her hands were soft and warm and smooth. He added a little pressure as he kept his grip strong. 

“Do you mind staying for awhile?” she asked, her eyes pleading with his own. He softly smiled. 

“If my lady wishes it.” He sat back down on the bench with Sansa talking into the night. 

The day of the tournament came quickly, much to the princes liking. Since returning back to King’s Landing, he’s been preparing greatly. He was on his way out when one of his mother's handmaidens, Bernadette, came to inform him that the queen was requesting his presence. 

The two made their way to the queens royal apartment and stopped as he simply stood outside her door. Tyrek looked at the stopped prince, confused. “Something wrong?” he asked his unmoving cousin. The prince flinched, breaking out of some trance as the words of the man awoken him. 

“Yeah, sorry. I’m just wondering what she could say,” he said. He wondered if this was about what happened at the Ruby Ford with Joffrey.

“I’ll be quick, Tyrek.” The sworn shield shook his head and proceeded to stand against the wall next to the queens door. The prince exhaled some air from his mouth and knocked on the door twice loudly. He always knocked this way, which the queen took to remembering to identify his comings. From behind the door he heard her voice. 

“Enter” she said, and so he did. 

Her room was grand, tapestries and banners of lions all across the walls. She had the finest myrish silk carpets laid on the ground that muffled his steps. Fresh sunlight pierced through the windows, giving the room an orange glow. The Queen herself was sitting at a fine table with a red cloth atop of it. Her red dress spilling over her feet and painting the ground. 

She held a goblet which the prince knew had wine in it, her favorite most likely.

She turned her head dramatically, her long mane of golden curls swaying with the movement.

“Come my son. Sit,” she said sweetly. He did as she said, knowing what was coming next. 

She would try to use her sweet words and return him to her favor. He wondered himself if he would fall for her spell like he did when he was a young boy. He pulled out the chair nearest to him and sat as the queen watched him do so. She smiled at him, her face glowing like gold in the sun. He looked away from it, cowering away like he was staring straight at the sun itself. 

“We haven’t seen each other since we’ve returned home. Why is that?” she asked. 

“Sorry, I figured Joffrey wanted your undivided attention with his gnawed hand” he snidely replied. He didn't know why he said it the way he did, but the words just came out, along with some buried hurt in his tone. 

The queen mother dropped her smile. The response didn’t seem to please her and the prince was quickly regretting his choices of words. 

“You're mad at me,” she said matter of factly. The prince was about to speak but bit his tongue, and shook his head. He was more mad at Joffrey than his mother, but he was mad that his mother acted exactly how he expected. 

“Why would I be mad at you? Joffrey was hurt and you simply did what any mother would do for their eldest,” the prince said. “Let alone the crown prince.” He always tried to validate his mother's reasoning when he felt her wrath coming. To save himself some hurt. 

He didn’t meet her eyes. 

He kept them locked onto the fruit that was spread atop a small plate. With how he was speaking he assumed his mother would soon reprimand him. He knew her eyes would tell him. Cersei noticed that as a child, her second son would look away from her when he was upset. And this time was no different. 

“Alycilles… your brother isn’t as… strong or independent as you are. You’ve always been one to hold his own,” she said gently, coursing her hands through his hair. 

It felt nice to him. 

He looked up to her, her hand rubbing against his scalp. She gave him the gentle smile he grew up seeing so little. Her green eyes were sharp and had an intensity behind them.

“As the one who will become king, your brother will need your help in sustaining his reign. I need you two to get along. For the future of our family,” she spoke with honeyed words. He nodded his head obediently. 

“You know I'll do anything for our family, mother,” he said. 

“I know you will my sweet silver” she said with a kiss to his forehead. “Well if that’s all mother, I’ll be taking my leave” he said, standing up from his chair. He swiftly moved across the myrish silk keeping his form forward until the voice of the queen halted him. “So I hear you're taking part in the tourney coming up,” she said, her previous sweet tone gone. “Well yeah, it is for my nameday mother. It’s only right that I be the one to find glory amongst others,” he said with a cheeky grin turned at her. 

“Sheesh. You sound like your uncle. Fools always thinking with their swords. Why must you chase fantasies. Your place is by my side in the box. Let your uncle do what he does,” the queen said trying to convince her son. 

“But what about what I do mother. Do you believe me to not be the same calibur a warrior as uncle,” he said with a pout, and soft eyes. He had his own tricks he used on his mother as a young boy. The routine of the privileged prince always worked on her. 

“What if you get hurt?” she asked.

“Boys get hurt all the time mother.”

“But you're not like other boys. You’ve always stood out amongst others, I can't deny that,” she said finishing off her wine. 

“Fine, just be safe okay” she said. 

“Pray to the seven that I will,” he said, and with that he took his leave.

* * *

  
  


The sky was clear in readiness for the festivities to take place and the sun was shining bright, with nary a shadow in sight. The two boys made their way up to Visenya’s Hill, the streets busy with people going to and fro. 

Knights and squires were together, crowding the many smith shops looking to acquire fresh armors and blades. The tourney had everyone looking for a better arsenal, hoping the gods found them glory. 

Occasionally they would turn their heads and notice the prince, but kept to themselves leaving him only looks. Each stand they passed by had a merchant asking the prince to check their wares, trying to persuade him with discounts and deals. He waved them off and the two kept their stroll to one place they had in sight. They made their way to the far end of the street up the high end of the hill and bask in the shop. It was the biggest building on the street reaching two stories. There were armored mannequins standing guard in front of the entrance. The sounds of hammering metal rung out every second and they could see the owner of the shop himself moving around. The prince moved closer to the entrance, skimming past people who were leaving themselves from having their own work done. 

He saw the fresh armor they wore, and the shiny new steel they held tight to. Mott himself noticed someone entering his shop and turned with a not so shocked look on his face. The man wiped the dirt from his hands with a slightly dirty rag. “My prince, a pleasure to see you. I almost thought you forgot about me” the smith man said with a gritty smile. 

“Come now Mott, Kingslanding doesn’t have any other smithys with your fine quality. Plus you still have my armor and sword,” the prince said happily. The old man laughed as he paced around his shop. “Ser Tyrek. A pleasure as always to see you beside the prince. 

“Mott. seems your business is as good as usual” Tyrek said. 

“With the tourney coming up, I'm making triple the coin I normally take in.” 

The sound of steel on steel caught the princes attention again. He saw someone further in the back, somewhat shrouded by smoke. He figured that was Gendry as usual.

“I hope you're taking care of that metal I made for you,” he heard Mott say to Tyrek. 

“Aye, it never let me down yet” Tyrek said, patting his sword at his hip side. “So, my prince. I’m sure you're eager to see your new armor set,” Mott said. This caught the prince's attention as he perked his head up and shot a smile at the man. “You finished the work I commissioned for you?” the prince asked. 

“Yes, right this way” he said, leading them further into the back. The back of the shop had more room, kept all of Mott’s work, and where he worked. A bright light from the forge kept the place from darkness. 

He saw the many armors and weapons that rested on his desk, daggers, long swords, greatswords, and axes. He took grand notice of a mannequin in the center away from the other armenants, covered in a black cloth. 

“Gendry, grab the sword, you know the one” Mott shouted out. Alycilles watched as Gendry quickly moved to the table closest to him, and picked up a sword in a red sheath. That caught the prince's attention on how exquisite the detailing on it was. “This is probably the finest set I developed in all my years. Your instructions and detailings were far beyond my understanding so I had to hire extra help. Some man from out of Essos, he’s gone now though.” 

The prince fixed himself onto the covered mannequin which he knew wore his armor. 

“Well let’s see it then” he said. 

“Right,” Mott said. He moved close to the mannequin and removed the sheet dramatically.

It was brilliant. 

Something to cease the prince's breath. When he designed this armor, he was excited just from his thoughts of it, but seeing it realized now was strange. 

The armor was gold plated, head to toe. The golden chest plated cuirass had a lion's head in the center of the chest with two black emeralds embedded within its eyes. 

His eyes drifted down the torso to the part of his armor that resembled an abdomen. There was a gorget of black metal made to protect the neck. The vambraces were designed small to protect the forearm, but left his upper arm revealed. He likes the freedom and mobility it gave him. 

For his legs he had golden greaves and a cuisse for protection. He designed the pauldrons for his shoulders in the likeness of a lions head as well. He wasn’t one to be flashy at first, but when he started to design the armor he couldn’t help but fantasize the details and let his mind take over. 

Lastly, the one piece he admired the most was the headpiece that completed the armor. A great stag helmet with carved pieces of antlers forming around the helm like a crown, signifying his house's status. Hovering above the crown was two large antlers trimmed thin as to not be so heavy. It was tradition for Baratheon men to bear antlers in battle, and hearing the stories of the Baratheons of old only added fuel to the prince's flames of being a warrior. 

The antlers were dyed dark black standing out against the golden crown. He walked around the armor to look at the back of the helmet. There was a mane of white fur sewn into the base of the helmet. 

A combination of stag and lion, just like himself.

He softly rubbed the fur down its length, admiring the perfection before him. He had to admit Mott did well. He thought if he should give the man some extra gold.

“You’ve outdone yourself this time Mott, truly” the prince spoke kindly as his eyes stayed on his armor. 

“You're too kind, my prince. But I have one more thing for you” Mott said. “Gendry, bring it forward.”

Gendry came forward towards Mott and the prince, holding the sword with the well designed sheath. 

“Ofcourse, the sword,” Alycilles said enthusiastically. Gendry held the base of the sheath and the prince lifted his hands and gripped the hilt, steadily, adjusting to the feel of his new blade. The hilt was dark red with a red ruby at the end of the pommel. 

He drew it. 

The first song of the blade, cutting out all noise that polluted its birth. Alycilles couldn’t help but grow a grin that any child would have when receiving a new toy. He studied the sword, the quillon was a crossguard with golden antlers wrapping around it. In the center of the crossguard was a roaring golden lion with two small gems within its eyes. 

The blade itself was simple steel, freshly forged and clean. He took a few practice swings with it away from those around him, and listened to the blade. The way the air wooshed when the blade cut through its force was a song to his ears. He held it in one hand, the weight easily manageable considering its look.

It stayed upright, his grip keeping it from falling to the ground.

“Oh yeah, this will do nicely” he finally spoke. 

“It’s no valyrian steel, but it's one of the best swords in all of King’s Landing” Mott said proudly. 

The prince had to admit that he said no lies. The amount of coin he put in this blade would drive his mother into a rage. He had to make sure he didn’t lose this sword. Alycilles turned to his cousin who was standing there looking proud for his cousin. 

“Well Tyrek. What do you think?” he asked, holding the blade outward with his hands. Tyrek studied the sword and then looked back to the armor resting on the mannequin.

“Gods, all that gold was worth it, I'll admit, you almost make me what a set of my own” he said.

“Maybe on your nameday,” Alycilles said with a chuckle putting the sword back into its sheath. 

“It is superb, but it doesn’t offer you any protection for your arms and legs,” Tyrek said. 

“Yeah, I designed it like that on purpose. I hate the feeling of full armor. It feels too heavy for me, not agile enough. With this I can move more freely than someone in full plate armor and still have the same protection it offers. Of Course I have many tricks up my sleeves, cousin. And thanks to Mott and his godly forgery who I couldn’t do this without,” he said winking at Mott. 

“My prince, you're gonna have em on their toes,” Mott simply said, taking a bow. “Anyways, here, I believe this is yours” he said holding a large coin purse that jiggled and clinked around each time he moved. The old blacksmith eyes lit up and his hairy mouth grinned. 

“I’ll have someone come over and gather the armor for me, but I'll be taking my sword now,” he said as Mott took the coin purse from him. “

Of Course my prince,” Mott said with a bow again. He removed his sword belt and attached his new steel to his right side. His basic sword that he always carried was on his left. 

“Two blades eh,” Tyrek said. 

“I’ll probably stick to the one when the tourney starts,” Alycilles said, fitting his belt back to his waist. 

“Alright then. We'll be heading out now that our business is done. Take care of yourself Mott. You too Gendry” the prince said as he and Tyrek made for the entrance. He heard Mott and Gendry say something as he left, and his mind wandered to Gendry. There was something familiar about him that he couldn’t put his tongue too. Whenever he saw him, something at the back of his mind would cause him to double back to Gendry, like there was something more to him than he knew. The prince shrugged it off as the blinding light of the bright sun beamed down on him. He squinted his eyes, stopping as he saw a figure in front of him. Tyrek stopped next to the prince and looked at him. As his eyes adjusted he was able to make out a form and put a face to this shadow. The cold Lord Stark along with someone else. 

Jory the prince remembered. 

Stark seemed surprised to see him, his walking coming to a halt. “Prince Alycilles, you're an early riser. What business do you have here?” Stark asked. “Well I needed some new wares for the tourney, and Mott is the best of the best,” he said, giving off a grin similar to his uncles. Stark gave him a half grin himself, not really amused. 

“I should be the one surprised. What brings you here. Are you planning on taking part in the tourney yourself?” the prince continued. Stark was quite hesitant at first as his face became guarded. 

“Just...hand business,” he said. The prince studied his face. Stark's face was stoney and left an impression that he was done speaking. Alcyilles’ smile was a sly one, “okay then,” he said and made his way around the two with Tyrek keeping up with him. 

“Well, that was eventful. What business do you think Lord Stark had at Motts shop?” Tyrek asked as they walked down Visenya’s hill. The prince waved him off with a shrug of his shoulders. 

“Hands business” he said, seeming to lose interest, but his thoughts were another thing, as he tried to wonder what Stark was hiding. 

“Maybe he’s finally catching on to the way the game is played,” Alycilles said. “Come, we need to head to the barracks. It’s about time I brought Nessi back into our fold.”

Nessi’s back from huh? So are your plans for Summerhall still ongoing? Tyrek asked. “Yeah, I've been putting a lot of gold into reconstructing that place. Nessi said she’d be back before my nameday to give me an update on its progress. If anything completion should be almost done so we can finally have a new residence if The Red Keep grows a little stale,” Alycilles said. 

They swept through the Red Keep quickly, passing servants and workers rushing back and forth, holding wood planks, banners with the crown stag and other equipment most likely in preparation for the tourney. _Won’t be long now._

The Barracks, home of the Gold Cloaks was a building about two stories high casting shadows down on them. The Gold Cloaks were quite active; surprisingly, they could hear roaring and shouting within the barracks. The two stopped in front of the double doors leading into the barracks, a door made out of a black barked tree, with the etchings of a cloak seared right into the middle carved into both doors. 

The handles were trimmed gold, bolted on both sides of the doors. The roaring grew louder, jeering and words of encouragement breaking through the cracks of the wood. 

The Gold Cloak seemed to be enjoying themselves to whatever entertainment attained them. Alright, let's see what has our men so lively,” the prince said wondering what had the Gold Cloaks so venerated. Alycilles went first with Tyrek following behind him as he pushed the double doors open, the cheers of voices growing louder the further they ventured within the barracks. They came upon the inner yard where the men of the cloaks would spar with each other, testing their skills and improving themselves. They pushed through the flap leading into the courtyard and eyed two individuals moving around each other. The prince looked around and saw numerous men around the yard, hands up in the air, paying no mind to their prince. The sparring yards were covered in sawdust, tainting the prince's nose with an earthy smell. “Come one Coleman, show her what the Gold Cloaks are worth,” someone shouted out. 

His eyes focused back on the two in the ring, a woman and a man, each duking it out, and the lady pounding the man to the floor. She was tall, had short black hair, half dyed purple, that barely reached her ears. Her bright olive skin matched the orange lighting of the yard, adding to the fierce beauty she had. A scar on her cheek that shaped like a diagonal X, that didn’t deter her allure. The prince watched the man on the ground began to pull himself back up and saw Ser Coleman, rush towards Nessi. 

He quickly swung a dagger he held wildy about, as the woman who was covered in sweat and nothing but a breast band strophium and some brais, dodged the man easily. She moved with confidence, smiling as she dodged and swayed each swing Coleman made. She brought her arms up to her chest, preparing to move on the assault. After Coleman made a poor swing, she geared her arm back and connected it to Colemans face, knocking him to the ground. Coleman went limp as he hit the ground to the cheers of the Gold Cloaks. 

“None of you men can handle me,” she roared, thrusting both of her arms to the roof. Her arms were quite toned, muscle on muscle, yet still slim. Her abs were like a stone wall, flat with no sight of pudge or fat. 

A couple of men ran onto the yard to help Coleman to his feet as Nessi strutted away when she took notice of the prince. Alycilles met her gaze, and couldn’t help but form a small hint of a smile. 

“Alright, time for a little reunion,” the prince said as the warrior woman made her way closer. Once they were in reach, the prince held out his hand. 

“Nessi, i’m glad you made it for my name da-,” he tried to say but Nessi grew a cherry grin, then grabbed his arm, pulling him close to her. He felt her arm wrapped around his neck, her grip tight but comfortable. He then felt her closed hand rub his head top. 

“You think I'd miss my little prince's special day,” she said. Her fierceness was cute in a way that the prince couldn’t deny, for a warrior woman most would find that off putting, but Nessi could charm any man on the battlefield. 

Most of the Gold Cloaks were shocked as they stared at this woman so casually fraternizing with their prince. Tyrek on the other hand wasn’t remotely surprised. 

It wasn’t so uncommon for Alycilles who had his own way with people. She let go of her grip on him as he nearly stumbled backwards, but caught himself as he straightened up his back. He looked back onto her and got a much better look at her. She stood there with her hand on her hip as she simply smiled, letting her prince finish his once-over of her. 

“You look well as usual, Nessi The Fierce,” he said. 

“You have grown quite yourself since I last saw you Allie” she said. There was that nickname his sister had made for him. 

Now every girl close to him has been using that nickname for him. 

“To put it simply Allie, I’ve returned to King’s Landing because I missed your company. Those men at Summerhall are decent company, but I grow tired of smacking them around. She moved close to him and pressed her lips to his forehead. 

“Happy nameday by the way,” she said with a smile. 

“Thank you, and you know how I feel about that name,” the prince said with a red face. 

“I know, but it’s cute when it flusters you,” she teased. 

He decided to save himself from the stares he was receiving and take their talks elsewhere. 

“Walk with me Nessi, tell me about the progress of our summer home,” he said. The three of them made their way out of the barracks as Nessi told the prince on how Summerhalls reconstruction and the great progress the builders had made. With them going how they are, the old keep should be finished come end of summer. 

The prince was quite pleased to hear that, wanting to have a place to get away too for some time that he could call his own. Kings Landing at times could be too crowded, and his family members being around almost every corner was sometimes bothersome. He loved them, but at times he wanted his alone time. 

With Summerhall, he could be the lord of his own keep, even if he didn’t inherit Storm's End or even Casterly Rock, he could still have something to call his own. 

The servants of The Red Keep were still in a rush as the Twins Tourney was soon to start. Alycilles intended to find a page to send for his armor at Motts shops. He needed to start his own preparations for his tourney. 

He was excited. Each time he saw a lord, or the son of a lord proudly displaying their banners made him somewhat anxious. He moved quicker through the Red Keep, his ambitions leading his path.

* * *

Sansa arrived at the Twins Tourney with Septa Mordane and Jeyne Poole, and her sister Arya. She was talking to Jeyne Poole about all the Knights that were in attendance, all taking to the fields. They tried to name all the seven knights of the Kingsguard who were present on the field, and they managed half of them, but one knight whose name they could never forget was missing. Jaime Lannister was absent from his fellow brothers, and Sansa was wondering where he could be. They continued to play their game at putting names to the men before them. 

Lord Jason Mallister, the Lord of Seagard, and his son, Patrek, standing next to him. 

Thoros Of Myr, the red priest was present, his flapping red robes and a shaved head. Others she saw who she couldn’t name, but they looked threatening, even to Sansa. Ser Balon Swann. 

Lord Bryce Caron of The Marches. 

Bronze Yohns’s Royce, and his younger brother, Ser Robar, clad in silver steel plate armor. The two twins, Ser Horas and Ser Hobber, who both wore shields with a cluster of grapes painted on them. 

Six Freys of the crossing, The Mountain That Rides lurking around, and more sons of lords and lesser lords. She eyed the man with the scarred face, The Hound, Joffrey's sword shield as she recalled. He entered the list as well she saw, as well as the king's own brother, Lord Renly of Storm’s End. She could hardly breathe soaking it all in. 

It was something like straight out of a book she read, and she was witnessing it all first hand. With so many names here, she believed she might be living life as one of her favorite books about a lowly girl who elevated to royalty, and she couldn’t help but grow a wide smile. With all her gawking around the tourney field, she realized she failed to see Prince Alycilles anywhere. She found herself saying aloud, “I don’t see Prince Alycilles anywhere,” her septa, Jeyne, and Arya all heard her. 

Jeyne herself began to turn her head around the tourney grounds searching herself for the silver prince. “Perhaps the prince is preparing for the tourney,” Septa Mordane said. Sansa looked towards the royal box and saw most of the royal family in attendance. King Robert was sitting in his chair, a horn mug in his hands as he watched the tourney men arrive. 

The Queen was there sitting next to him, her hair in a traditional southern style. She saw Princess Saphira resembling the queen herself other than her white gold hair. It was in the style of her mothers, her hair tied in braids that wrapped around her head and entwined within a circlet that was sitting comfortably wrapped around her locks. Even from where Sansa was seated she could tell the princess had to be one of the most beautiful ladies in Westeros. 

Her face was powdered, and painted, a light gold coloring lining her eyes. When the sun made contact with her face it would shine brightly like a porcelain statue with hair made of silk. She stared at the princess for a second more then looked at the ladies near her. 

She was surrounded by ladies of great beauty as well. Each one around her was equally pretty to each other, the young Stark girl thought. Ladies she didn’t know, but judging on their appearance they each had high standings. A beautiful lady of brown skin with long raven hair that fell in ringlets dressed in fine orange dress.

Another lady was a fetching beauty with a doe’s soft eyes and a mane of curling brown hair that fell about her shoulders. She wore a dress of green with golden flowers sewn around them. 

On the princess’s other side sat her younger sister, Princess Myrcella, and two other blonde girls she figured to be Lannisters next to her. By the way they smiled at each other, they seemed to be enjoying each other's company, Sansa thought. She wanted to make her way to the princess and wish her a happy name day, but she was held back by her shyness, and the other ladies there intimidated her. She continued to watch them as the Knight of Flowers approached the stand and spoke some words to the princess. Afterwards her, and her accompanying ladies fell into jovial laughter. 

She then glanced towards Joffrey who was leaning back in his chair, chin held high as his arm held his head up. Sansa wondered why he looked so uninterested. Her golden lion had a poor expression, one she didn’t think Joff could make.

Her mind drifted back to Prince Alycilles, still curious about his absence. With all the tents that surrounded the tourney fields, she figured he was occupying one of them. She still had fond thoughts of him, and felt she needed to thank him again for saving Lady, and thought about leaving to find him. She debated with herself, but with so many tents, and not knowing which one could possibly be his, she stayed in her seat. 

It was then her father made his appearance, Lord Stark sighing as he took his seat as he greeted his daughters. She noticed his face was somewhat similar to Joffrey's own. She hoped that would change once the tourney started.

* * *

The prince was in his tent, tracing a oiled rag across his new nameday sword. The blade was plenty sharp, but he wanted to keep his blade from rusting, and liked the practice of coating steel in oil. It was a sort of ritual for him whenever he got new steel. He had yet to give it a name, no matter how many of them popped in his head. Stagscorn, Lionsbane, Golden Truth, Stags Wrath, and so on. 

His tent was average size, only housing his armor, some furnished chairs, fruit and wine, a table and a rug. He was surrounded by men mostly from his family's houses. His uncle Jaime was just one tent over, and had come to see him earlier. 

He was thankful. 

The seasoned warrior always gave the prince words of wisdom when it came to fighting in tournaments. 

If his Uncle Jaime knew anything, it was the art of combat and how to bend her to your will. To master the art of ending a life and handling a weapon better than the next man. 

His uncle drilled it into his head ever since he found an interest in him. It was his fourth nameday and both his uncles, Renly and Jaime, honored him with his very own swords. It was the first time Jaime had ever given the prince anything worthwhile. After that he sought his uncle out more, watched him whenever he was in the yard, studying how he moved, and how he swung his sword. He found confidence to finally confront his uncle, and begged him for lessons. The Kingslayer was reluctant, but something about the way Alycilles looked up to his uncle, made the Kingslayer weak to his pleas. And so he instilled all that he knew into his nephew. 

His tent flapping loudly awoke him from his daydreaming memory to the sight of Tyrek and Nessi standing before him. “Well, what can you guys tell me,?” he asked. 

Nessi was the first one to speak. “There are many knights from all over it seems.” 

“It seems like the host of a great army out there. Most of the Kingsguard, your families bannerman, and even the Dornish prince is here. It’s quite the spectacle really,” Tyrek said.

“It’s a grand thing, this tourney then,” the prince said gleefully. 

“Your name has been floating around the fields as well. Word of you competing this year has brought out those looking to prove themselves against you,” Tyrek said. 

“That's no surprise,” the prince simply spoke.

“So are you nervous,?” Nessi asked, curious. 

The prince looked at her. His nerves weren’t splitting, but even he couldn’t deny the intimidating force that lay beyond his tent. 

He saw the two of them waiting for his response, and he wasn’t sure what to say, but a soft voice calling Alycilles’ name from outside of his tent turned all their heads. The voice made his ears twitch, and was familiar to him. 

“Come in, my lady,” he said, sheathing his new blade. He saw two slender hands peak themselves through the flap. Milky white hands, as smooth as a fresh born babe. They then pulled themselves to the side and there stood the Flower Of Highgarden.

She had an innocent look to her small face as she scanned the room, looking at the two others before her eyes rested on the prince. His two sworn shields made their way past the girl, leaving the two alone in the princes’ tent. He placed his sword down and stood up to face her. 

She eyed him up and down. 

He wasn’t wearing anything special, but he figured that she was looking for something else. 

“Happy nameday Alycilles,” she said with a soft alluring tone. Her lips were parted when her words ceased, he could hear the low hitch of her voice as she breathed. He gave her one of his most charming smiles, as he walked closer to her. “Thank you my lady. Fifteen years. Almost a man grown,” the prince said. 

“You look beautiful, though that's to be expected from the maid of Highgarden,” he teased her, eyeing herself up and down. 

She seemed to notice his gawking, and with squinted eyes closed the distance between the two. “You like what you see?” she asked turning fully to face him, showing off the revealing dress she wore. Her hair swayed to the side with the tilt of her head. Her smile was like a trap for his lips, tempting him to be the first to break the barrier that stopped them. 

_Gods she smells good._

He took a chance and moved a hand across her waist. She didn’t resist, or pull away when he pulled her close to him. 

She seemed to enjoy it in fact. 

Their faces were within reach of each other, lips parted, vying for contact. The last time they were like this was the last year he was at Highgarden. He shared his first kiss with her on his last day in the Reach lands. She had pulled him away, finding a secluded hallway where she timidly planted her lips on his own, hoping he wouldn’t turn her down. When the prince returned the gesture, they stayed like that for minutes before he finally took his leave. 

His first kiss, and here she was again. 

He hadn’t noticed how close their faces had gotten to each other, as his lips found hers. Their contact grew more fierce as they attacked each other's face, their lips and tongues returning to a flavour familiar to each other. _Strawberries. My favorite._

The maid herself was warming with her kiss, wrapping her tongue around his, fighting for control. They separated their lips with a smack, her sweet taste still lingering in his mouth. They had a forbidden love, and for those of their stations, they had to be careful with their secret affairs. 

“So what’s this I hear about you being betrothed to the Stark girl,” she said curiously. That caught him by surprise, and by the way Margaery looked at him she thought so too. 

“It’s my father's fault, the drunk fool. He promised me I could choose my bride, but the second we arrive in Winterfell he falls in love with the Starks all over again. Now he wants our houses joined,” he said, the heat in his tone rising with each word. 

The Highgarden maid simply watched the prince as he paced around his tent. “Joffrey can have Sansa for all I care, but I don’t plan on marrying Arya,” he said chillingly. Margaery let a chuckle escape her mouth. “What, you don’t like the Stark girl?” she teased. 

“I barely even know her,” he murmured, “but I do know you.”

“There are some things that even we cannot control. We must often do the biddings of our parents, for the sake of our families” she said, her voice falling low. Her gaze left the princes which made him wonder. “You remember the promise we made to each other when we were kids?” she asks, finding her voice as she moved close to him. 

A quirky smirk formed on his face, “of course.” 

“We both promised to have no other. To be with no other but each other, and when the time comes I’d march up to your father, and demand your hand. Who is he to deny his prince,” he smugly spoke. 

“Oh, and do you think you can still uphold that promise?” she asked with a tilt of her head. 

“Have I ever fallen through on my promises to you,” he stated more than asked. She simply smirked as his hands found her waist again, her soft body forming together with her dress. She let out soft moans each time he gave her body a squeeze. She was leaning into his chest. Their foreheads together, both of them waiting to go on the attack again. 

A loud VROOOOOM of a horn caused them to jump in surprise, breaking apart quickly. 

“It seems, your tourney is about to begin. I should leave you so you can prepare. Less distractions the better. You’ll have my brother to worry about out there,” she warned. 

“Loras won’t be my only concern, but thanks for the words,” he said. She quickly gave him a peck to his lips, “for luck,” she said, and made her way out his tent.

* * *

Back at the tourney grounds, seats were beginning to fill as commoners and lords, ladies and whores alike were waiting in anticipation for the coming rivalry. Cersei was eyeing them all, their need to see violence was blooming, and it was like her king husband to satisfy his subjects. 

She looked to her side and saw Robert there, drinking from a large horn full of whatever ale he consumed. 

He was red faced and was visibly waning on patience as well. Below her were her children, gawking in every direction, most likely looking for their brother. She herself was curious. She had hoped to stop her son from taking part in this tourney, once she saw all the men who traveled so far just for her twins. She had to admit she was proud of her two silver lions. They brought love and admiration to her family from these people like they had some unknown sway over them. 

Maybe it was because they resembled Targaryens so much. The people reminisced on days of old. The days when the dragon flew over their heads. Well, now it was the lion that prawled through their streets. The lion that keeps them fed. Not the dragon. 

A man caught her attention, the herald, she presumed as he walked onto the field being trailed by two squires with horns. The announcer himself was dressed well, wearing a studded doublet with the colors of yellow, with a blue cape flapping on his back and puffy black pants. The squires behind him blew the two horns they held loud, which abruptly gained the looks of everyone. The man began to read from an unfurled parchment he held in front of him. 

Everyone was silent as the crier wet his lips as he red from the long strip of paper. “May the tourney in celebration of the Silver Twins, Prince Alycilles, and Princess Saphiras’ nameday officially begin,” he said out loud with all the hints of proudness. 

Cries went out loud from the ladies on the stands, and eventually the rest of their subjects erupted in cheers. Cersei looked to see what had them in an uproar and saw her son riding onto the field atop his golden steed, dawned in his gilded golden armor with a great lion resting on his chest. She was just like all the other ladies, finding herself captured by her son's grace. 

He rode gallantly, she saw Jaime in him, but her son was more gorgeous, she had to admit, not even Jaime had the looks her son had at his age. He made his way riding around the tilt barrier, waving to the crowds with a bright smile across his face. Tommen and Myrcella were cheering and waving themselves as they watched their brother. He passed the stands where the Starks were sitting and stopped in front of the royal box, his destrier rose up to the sky standing on her hind legs. The horse let out a loud whinny, full of life, when her son rubbed her mane. She watched him as he hopped down from his horse, and made his way up the royal box. “Sister,” he said as he stopped in front of her and held out some sort of box. He opened it and revealed a gold necklace embedded with green and blue gemstones. “May I?,” he asked. 

She nodded her head and stood from her seat, a bright smile stamped across her face. Everyone was watching as the prince hooked his present to her neck. The princess stood straight, her hand feeling the necklace, flaunting the fine jewelry to the crowds. 

They immediately burst into applause and claps, a gift from their prince to his sister was setting the tone before the tourney started. The princess looked even more beautiful than the queen herself, and with the twins standing beside each other, they shared a radiance that was unparalleled in all the realm. 

She was so lost in their faces that she almost failed to catch the look Alycilles gave her. By the time she realized he had locked eyes with her, he was already greeting her youngest. He pinched little Tommens’ cheeks and patted Myrcellas’ head as he kissed her forehead. She was in a heavy blush as she massaged her hair. After that he stepped back down, returning to his horse. She noticed how all those girls near her daughter had their eyes on her son the whole time he left. The Dornish princess, and Margaery Tyrell, and a couple of her Lannisters, cousins of hers, Cerenna and Myrielle, and Joy Hill. She had to keep tabs on them all she told herself to remember. 

* * *

The first of the matches were beginning with Jory Cassel one of the first up to the list, along with Ser Horas Redwyne. Jory’s armor was quite simple, blue-grey plate armor without device or ornament, along with a thin grey cloak that hung from his shoulders like a soiled rag. They rode around the tilts once passing each other until Jory proved himself well as he dismounted Ser Horas. Afterwards he managed to dismount a member of house Frey, until being beaten by Luthor Brune, a man with armor just as plain. Neither of them had lost their seat, but Brunes lance was steadier, and his blows better placed, and the king gave him the victory after three passes. It was then time for the prince to compete as he rode up to the tilts to the yelling of the crowds. 

They were eager to see him in action, each shout towards him sent his blood high. He was gleaming in his new armor, the lion of his chest lookin fierce as the black eye gems glared back onto the people. It was a fancy set, no doubt more valuable than most of the other competitors on the field, given his family's status. He stopped at one end of the tilt and saw his first opponent. 

Meryn Trant, a member of the Kingsguard. He wasn’t quite fond of Trant growing up, and the man barely said any words to him at all. This was going to be a match up where his personal feelings wouldn’t get in the way. 

Yes.

Personal feelings were a weakness here. He had to give it his all, no matter who he faced off against. The two made their way in front of the royal box and gave their bows to the king and queen. Once the king waved them off, they took their place back at their ends of the tilts, and waited. Meryn looked down to the prince, somewhat smirked at him, and put his helmet on. The prince simply did the same, his dark antlers casting a shadow onto the ground. He could tell the sight of him had an effect on the people. His eyes caught Sansa and the girl, Jeyne sitting close by the royal box, watching him intently. 

He hoped he could give them a good show. 

To his side, Tyrek appeared and gave the prince his blunted lance and shield. His cousin gave him some words of encouragement before he made his way off quickly. 

At the sound of a horn, the two took off, their horses picking up speed as dust was kicked into the air. Trant’s white cape was flapping in the wind, looking quite majestic in the gleaming sun. Alycilles wore his own cape, a black sewn thing with a gold stag with a crown around its neck. He raised his lance high and held his shield in place. The prince did the same as they grew closer as he focused on Trant. He tightened his grip on his lance, held it high as he grew closer and closer, until. 

A loud crack shot out quick as wood splintered upon both of their shields. The prince felt himself jerk wildy and his bottom lifted from his horse. He held the reigns as best he could, when Trants lance collided with his shield. Half of the princes’ shield was gone, but Trants angle was off, where else the prince aimed directly for Trants chest. Trant at the last second brought his shield up but that ploy didn’t save him. The prince's lance shattered Trants shield easily, scattering pieces everywhere. 

His lance met the golden armor Trant wore and lifted the man from his horse. With the amount of force the prince put into his thrust, Ser Meryn was almost flying like a bird through the air. His helmet had managed to fly off as the man landed on the field. 

As Goldy made the rounds around the tilt, the prince managed to right himself atop her and steady his breathing. The people cheered for him as Trant clumsily pulled himself up from the mud. Alycilles looked at Trant. _My first victory. And hopefully not my last._

He smiled as Goldy trotted in circles as the prince could see his young siblings happily cheering for him. Following the rest of the tourney he unhorsed many men that came down on him. A man named Alyn and Harwyn all fell to his lances’ strike. 

When his matches were over he watched the other competitors in action, Thoros of Myr was lined up at his end of the list while his opponent. A man wearing a black hound helmet being carried by a black steed. The crowd was silent, Alycilles notice as he too watched the two men charged down to each other, reaching closer and closer until the red priest shocked everyone taking down Sandor Clegane. The prince himself didn’t know what to expect after Sandor unseated his uncle, Renly. 

To him, it looked like Sandor was barely even trying, and with how long he knew the man he had reason to believe Thoros would be the one graveling in the dirt. He looked back to Sansa and saw her and Jeyne both gleaming with excitement on their faces. All throughout the jousting he noticed the two crying out together whenever the riders clashed with each other. Jeyne would cover her eyes whenever a man fell, like a frightened girl, but Sansa was made of sterner stuff. He, a couple of times, had seen her casting looks his way, and a couple of those times their eyes met. He would give a smile and she would return it before turning her gaze. 

Thoros left the field and Alycilles watched the next riders taking to the yard, his uncle Jaime came next to his side.

“Nephew, still on the fields?” he asked. “I’m not out of this yet. You on the other hand have been having some close calls” the prince answered with. “Yes, well like you said, I’m not out of this yet. Excellent victories so far, that armor of yours still looks stainless,” his uncle said. 

“Thanks. Looks like your opponent is arriving,” Alycilles said. 

His uncle nodded his head and rode off to start his joust. He rode brilliantly, overthrowing Ser Andar Royce and the Marcher Lord Bryce Caron as easily as if he were riding at rings and then took a hard-fought match from white-haired Barristan Selmy who won his first two tilts against those much younger than himself.

Ser Gregor, The Mountain seemed unstoppable during his onslaught, all throughout the tourney, no one was able to phase the man. Earlier in the day during one of Ser Gregor's matches he rode his lance through a young knight from the Vale under his gorget with such force that it drove through his throat. Everyone was shocked by the scene. Alycilles and Tyrek simply stared at the young knight as his life’s blood pumped out his mouth with each cough. 

He had heard Jeyne Poole scream out in terror at the sight as he watched her cover her face. Sansa and Arya both didn’t turn away as they watched the man die. The young knight's armor was shiny new, a bright streak of fire ran down his outstretched arm as the steel caught the sun's light. The prince thought himself lucky he had yet to face the man, and felt pity for his next adversary. He watched as men came to the yard to remove the lifeless body and a boy came to dry out the blood. 

His ears twitched to the whinny of a horse and took his attention as the prince's eyes wandered to his left and saw a white horse close next to him. 

Atop of the horse was Loras Tyrell, slender as a reed, dressed in a suit of fabulous silver armor polished to a binding sheen and filigreed with twining black vines and tiny blue forget-me-nots, looking down at him and locked eyes for a second until Loras smirked suggestively to him as his hair swayed with his movements. 

Alycilles continued to watch as he handed Sansa Stark a red rose. 

_A false gesture if the rumors of him and my uncle are to be true_. 

Loras was just putting on a show he knew. 

This was always like him to do, even back in Highgarden when they held tourneys, Loras would play the crowd to his charms, and whenever the two of them ended up at the ends of the tilts together they would compete to see who could gain the crowd's favor first. 

Sansa said something to him, most likely her thanks and then Loras rode up to the royal boxes. The sky darkened as the clouds shrouded the sun from the tourney fields. There was an ominous feeling that came about it which gave the prince chills. 

He then saw Loras’ opponent. 

The Mountain That Rides, Gregor Clegane, the biggest man in all of Westeros. As a kid the man absolutely terrified him, especially with all the rumors that surrounded the man. To the prince, he **was** the monster that hid under your bed at night, like the ones from the stories his old nannies would tell him.

He felt his own nerves racking for Loras. 

He wondered if he could actually emerge victorious against such a man. As they grew closer, The Mountain's horse went to be in a frenzy near Loras’ horse, moving about uncontrollably. The Mountain kicked at the horse savagely with an armored boot. The horse reared and almost threw him. The Knight of Flowers saluted the king and queen, and rode down the end of the list, and couched his lance, ready. 

The Mountain brought his animal to the line, fighting with the reigns. The prince held his breath as the two horsemen strapped on their helmets and readied their lances. _Could Loras be skilled enough to fell a mountain?_ He thought not. Even in size Gregor was like a horse himself. Sturdy and strong, and not easy to move no matter how forceful. 

He heard Tyrek move to his side to watch the two riders as he spoke, “Loras against the mountain. There’s no way he stands a chance, no matter how good Loras is.” 

Alycilles simply watched on, even though he thought the same.

And suddenly it began.

The Mountain’s stallion broke into a hard gallop, plunging forward wildly, while the Loras’ mare charged as smooth as a flow of silk. Ser Gregor wrenched his shield into position, juggled with his lance, and all the while fought to hold his unruly mount on a straight line, and suddenly Loras Tyrell was on him, placing the point of his lance just _there_ , and with the blink of an eye The Mountain was falling. The man was so huge he took down the horse with him in a tangle of still and flesh. The prince heard applause, cheers, whistles, and shocked gasps. Their muttering was exciting, and over it all was the laughter of the Hound. 

“Well, looks like you were wrong, cousin.” 

The prince looked at the Knight of Flowers reigned up at the end of the lists. His lance was still intact. His sapphires winked in the sun as he raised his visor, smiling to the crowd. Alycilles felt a little jealous at the way they cheered for him. It wasn’t too long ago that they rang out for him like that, and now they found a new spectacle. In the middle of the field, Ser Gregor Clegane disentangled himself and came rushing mad to his feet. He threw off his helm and slammed it down onto the ground. His face was dark with fury and his hair fell down into his eyes. 

“My sword,” he shouted to his squire, and the boy ran it out to him. By then his stallion was back on its feet as well.

Gregor killed the horse with a single blow of such ferocity that it severed the horse's neck.

Cheers turned to shrieks in a heartbeat. The stallion went to its knees, screaming as it died. By then Gregor was striding down the lists towards Ser Loras Tyrell, his bloody sword clutched in his fist. 

“Stop him,” the prince shouted but his words were lost in the uproar. Time seemed to stand still for the prince as he took notice of everything that was happening around him. Ser Gregor swung his sword, a savage two-handed blow that took the boy in his chest and knocked him from his saddle. Sansa was crying out, Loras was stumbling on his feet shouting for his own sword while Gregor went for him. 

The prince didn’t think, and just moved.

His feet carried him as he brought his shield up, preparing himself as he reached Loras. He heard shouting behind him, most likely Tyrek screaming for him to stop but he didn’t. The mountain swung his sword, aiming for Loras, but the prince made it in time, and blocked the strike. The force was heavy, and nearly brought his arms down with its hard force. Loras stumbled behind the prince's legs finally finding his feet, but as Gregor lifted his sword up for another blow, a raspy voice called out, “leave him be,” and a steel-clad hand yank the prince away from Gregor's range. 

The Mountain pivoted in a wordless fury, swinging his longsword in a killing arc, with all his massive strength behind it, but the Hound caught the blow and turned it, and what seemed an eternity the two brothers stood hammering at each other as the prince dragged The Knight of Flowers away to safety. The prince's eyes never left the two men that stood fighting. Thrice Alycilles saw The Mountain aim for his brother's hound helmet, yet Sandor never once tried to go for a killing blow against him. It was then his father rose from his seat, looking to use his voice to put an end to it… along with twenty swords. His father always had a commanding voice, the prince hearing it plenty of times, and now he was going to hear it again. **“STOP THIS MADNESS,”** he boomed, **“IN THE NAME OF YOUR KING!”**

The Hound went down to one knee. Ser Gregor’s blow cutting the air above his head, and he finally came to his senses. He dropped his sword and looked at the prince, which he found strange, then to the king. 

He then turned wordlessly, strolling pass kingsguards and Gold Cloaks. 

“Let him go,” King Robert said, and as quickly as that it was over. There was commotion all throughout the stands. 

“I owe you my life ser. You too my prince,” he heard Loras say. 

“I’m no ser,” the Hound said to him, but Loras didn’t desist. He grabbed both the Hounds hand, and the princes, and raised them to the sky. The commons then cheered them on, as they gave their love to the two. Alycilles saw his father and mother both clapping, which surprised him. Myrcella and Tommen were some of the loudest as he could make out their voices easily. Joffrey sat forward, feigning interests to not look rude. His twin, Saphira, and the ladies that surrounded him all had cherry faces as they clapped for him. He met a couple of their eyes, and couldn’t help but grin ear to ear. 

It was then the King decided to end the jousts for the day and resume tomorrow. The sun was going down and Alycilles remembered there's to be a feast. The prince packed up his armor and left his tent up, then left back to his chambers. He wanted to wash up quickly, and change into fresher clothing. The feast would be starting soon if it didn’t start already, and the prince was eager to make his appearance. 

He had to say he liked the attention. Having all eyes all him swelled his pride. The way their heads would turn just from his mere presence. It did something for him. He dismissed Tyrek so he could prepare for the feast himself telling his cousin he need not follow him to his room.

He made it to his chambers, and stripped himself of his still clean armor. He had a servant bring him a basin of warm water, as he stripped down to his smallclothes. He poured a thick liquid within the pool, some type of substance he got from Pycelle that leaves a pleasant aroma on one's skin. 

The substance mixed with the warm water, as the prince stirred a clean rag within it. He scrubbed his body all over, washing away the sweat, and leaving a vanilla scent. 

He liked it, the scent it left on him. He dunked his head with the basin, engulfing his whole head into the thing. He scrubbed his hair thoroughly, until his locks were soaked, then pulled his head up. Water fell down in plentiful drops, raining down his face and neck, and onto his chest. 

He grabbed a bigger towel and scrubbed his head until it was dry. The filth was gone from him, and he was ready to get dressed. He made his way to his closet, a walk-in that had arrangements of outfits, some leftover from the days of his youth. He flipped through articles of clothing and he came upon an eccentric sleeveless jerkin made out of black silk with shouldered wings and laced buttons riding down the front, the color of black with gold lining. 

On the left breast side, there were two golden crown stag’s facing each other looking graceful, sewn with gold yarn encircling them. He grabbed a cream colored shirt and wore it under his jerkin. He wore matching black brais with them and some fine black leather shoes with wrapped laces. After combing his hair out he threw on a gold chain with circle pendants and lions carved into them, connected wrapping themselves around his chest. They were a little heavy, but the weight wasn’t a bother to him. He liked how he looked. Like a true prince from out of a story, but he was real. He stood in front of the mirror that rested in his closet, and stared at himself, his clothing fitted nicely, and looked perfect on him. He threw a short gold cape over his shoulders and left his chambers.

His father had always made an event out of his children’s nameday, spending large amounts of gold just to put on a show for the commoners. He let the throne room doors stay open for anyone to enter, with a red carpet leading out the entrance. The halls that led his way were empty but he could hear the chattering of people not too far away. He turned around a corner and there was the great hall. The lights lit the entrance and brought faces to the people who stood next to its doors. 

Nobles and ladies alike were chatting, waiting for the feast to begin. One of the faces he saw outside was a golden one with flowing hair. His uncle stood there wearing his kingsguard armor, standing vigilant. 

As he grew closer, the nobles noticed his appearance, and so did his uncle. He ignored their gazes and looked to his uncle. 

“Finally you show up nephew. Your guests were getting antsy,” his uncle said. The prince gave him a smirk as he crossed his arms.

“Yeah, but it would be in bad taste if I showed up smelling of dirt and sweat to greet my awaiting guest. Shall we go in then,” he said. His uncle nodded and followed his nephews lead as they strolled into the throne room. 

The great hall was grand. The floor was polished, and glossy, their bodies reflecting off its sheen face. On each side of the hall there were feast tables lined up. There were four huge aurochs they were roasting, turning slowly on wooden spits while kitchen boys basted them with butter and herbs until the meat crackled and spit. Tables and benches had been raised for those to take their rest at, piled high with sweetgrass and strawberries. He looked around him, catching the many glances the attendees gave him. 

Their attire was formal in nature, and they were dressed smartly. The ladies were in evening gowns wearing precious jewels that made them accentuate, while lords were in studded doublets, and dinner jackets as they proudly stood tall in the princes’ wake. He felt at home in his place at court. 

The prince saw Selwyn Tarth, the Lord of Evenfall talking to his uncle, Renly, both in deep conversation. He saw Lord Morrigen and his heir, Ser Richard Morrigen chatting it up with others. Many of the Bratheons' sworn houses were here for the feast, his father's bannermen always making the trip south. Singers voices were running through his ears, casting a pleasant tune to them. He peered at moonboy, walking on stilts and jesting at the nobles. His walk with his uncle brought them closer to the throne itself, seeing his family members sitting above the raised dais at a table with a red table skirt. 

There were fresh fruits and meats lined across it, which his little brother, Tommen, and Myrcella were picking at. 

His mother was eyeing him his whole walk to the table, along with his twin. Joffrey strangely enough was staring at him too as he made his way. He was wearing a deep blue doublet studded with a double row of golden lions. For a second, he thought he did something wrong.

His father then shouted down, his loud voice booming from atop his throne as he made his way closer. “About time you showed up boy, we can’t get this thing started with just one of you,” the king yelled out. 

With that he made his way to his seat at the table, his uncle taking his place standing guard to the side. His mother was on his right side, wearing a deep red gown, a gold jewel necklace, and a tiara lace through her hair. His sister sat on his left look quite the same, dressed in a black gown and still wearing the necklace he gave her earlier, and a crown like tiara. “You look dashing brother,” she said. “Likewise sister. You look stunning,” he gave her. 

“Now, let's get this feast started,” the king said. 

With that the feast started in full, servants brought dishes to their table, cutting pieces of auroch and placing pieces on his plate. Cooked salmon with sweet lemons, boiled crab and lobster, along with chicken stuffed with spinach. His sister was delicately eating slice pieces off the stuffed chicken, holding her fork like her septa taught her, and brought small pieces up to her mouth. One thing their mother made them learn was the proper way to use utensils.

“Alycilles, eat like a proper prince this time. Not like a beast,” his mother suddenly said. He had picked apart some salmon he put on his plate and ignored the rest. He didn’t really care what his mother thought of what he ate, but this wasn’t the north anymore, and he was faced with many nobles. From his position he could see everyone else that attended the feast. He saw Lord Stark and his two daughters along with their septa. They were enjoying the feast it seemed, Arya looked to be loudly talking to Sansa as the redhead ignored her. 

Closer to his table to his right were the Tyrells. 

Margaery and her brother Loras, along with their mother and father were with them. Opposite of them sat Arianne Martell, closely guarded by Dornishmen. Her uncle was absent from the feast, the prince not finding it surprising. The princess would drag her uncle here with promises of tourney victories and chances to shame the Lannisters, or at least that is what Arianne tells him. He had learned quickly the bad blood Martells, Baratheons, and Lannisters had with each other, but somehow managed to convince his father to let them in his walls, with less than a dozen guards. 

The music grew louder, singers letting the tune of, _Fair Maids of Summer,_ _The False and the Fair_ , and _The Nameday Boy,_ cry out all throughout the hall. He knew all of these songs, even singing some himself when he was younger. He would sing for his siblings when they could barely walk, and his sisters and mother would say he had a beautiful voice whenever he sanged. So he did so often, learning song after song pleasing those with his voice.

“The songs are quite lovely, don’t you think Allie,?” Saphira asked.

“Yes, they all pale in comparison to moonboys' resonating voice,” the prince said. He heard a snort escape his mother's lips as she quickly brought her goblet to her mouth. Their table was soon cleared away, servants removing the leftovers and plates. The prince knew what this meant as his mouth gave an upward turn. 

“Gift time sister,” he whispered over to her. She wiped her mouth with a rag as she turned to him. The first of the guests lined up with gifts in their hands. They received silver and gold jewels, books made with fine leathers, clothing and silks. The princess was given new dresses and gowns, while the prince was given new doublets and coats.

Lord Stark stepped forward along with his two daughters, the three of them holding gifts. Lord Stark was first as he held out a chainmail vest that shined like white silver. He took it from the lord. Feeling it between his hands.

“Thank you Lord Stark. I’ll be sure to put this to good use,” he said. 

The lord bowed, then stepped aside as his two daughters walked forward. “Lady Sansa. Lady Arya. What have you two got there? Princess Saphira asked. The prince watched them as both girls moved fidgety, placing two small boxes in front of him and his sister. “What are these,” the prince said absently, taking hold of the finely carved box. 

His sister did the same as they both revealed two necklaces, a pendant of a stag. He noticed that the pendant seemed to be split in half. His sister said something as she leaned over to him. 

“Look Allie, these two pieces seem to connect with each other,” she said with exuberants. She held up her piece to him and from her eyes she wanted him to do the same. He did, and they pressed their pieces together as they connected perfectly.

“Wow, I've never seen any type of jewelry that functioned like this,” the astonished prince said. The oldest Stark daughter perked her head up and spoke, “we had them specially designed that way, it's supposed to represent twin stags,” she said. They disconnected them, “it’s brilliant. Thank you, you two,” Saphira said. “I’ll cherish it forever,” Alycilles said. Both of them had hopeful faces as the prince and princess put on their new gifts. The two seem satisfied, Sansa gives them a curtsy, Arya refraining from doing so, then returns to their seats. Next, the Dornish princess herself stepped forward, one of her guards holding a spear that was golden from top to bottom. A couple of the kingsguard gripped their hilts and stepped towards the dornishmen but the prince held his hand up. Arianne stepped closer to him as her guard placed the spear on the table. “My prince. May I present you with this war spear, made of pure gold and lined with a special substance on its blade,” she said. He looked closer at it, peering it up and down and saw the Martell sun traced onto the blade. “Thank you Arianne,” he said. 

* * *

Cersei watched as the dornish girl left her table and took her place back below them. She saw the servants she acquired to bring forward her gifts, and stood gracefully from her chair as she rounded around the table. 

“My dearest cubs. You two look splendid on this day. Allow me to present these gifts to you,” the queen said. One of the servants walked forward, placing a golden tiara, encrusted with white diamonds lining all along the front. The thing was pure gold, and shinned nicely, perfectly clean and unscratched. His sister grasped it delicately, scanning the thing as she carefully rotated around. “Thank you mother, it’s almost too perfect to wear,” the princess said. Their mother looked pleased, then turned to her son as another servant placed a small golden harp in front of him. He caressed the curves of the harp, grazing his fingers against the strings, its voice quickly humming through the room then coming to a halt. 

“I know it’s been a while since you played, so I thought this might bring back some memories,” the queen said. “It has been a while hasn’t it. My old harp has probably gathered dust. I wonder if I remember any of my old tunes,” he said. She watched him as his hands glided over the strings, adding more fingers as they worked the strings, strumming them with ease. 

The sound was beautiful and mesmerizing, everyone's eyes beaming at the prince in wonder. The queen watched herself, stuck in a trance as her son played with such grace as memories flooded her mind. A familiarity came across her as she truly looked at her son.

He reminded her of Rhaegar. His hair, pleasant voice and beautiful face, but her son was not Rhaegar. He was meant to be better. A hard pluck of the harps string broke her trance as her son grimaced. 

“Guess I need more practice,” he said looking up to her. The crowd chuckled out, and she herself couldn’t help but smile. She presented her twins with the remainder of her gifts, some nice furs for her daughter and informed her son of the ship her little brother got him. 

“I’ll have to thank uncle the next I see him,” her son said. She smiled as she returned to her seat and grabbed her goblet and filled it with wine. She heard the clacking of heels growing closer to the table as her eyes saw the young maid of Highgarden and her brother make their appearance. The queen had a quaint relationship with the girl. Having fostered her here in King’s Landing for some time when her son, Alycilles, had persisted on having her stay. This was shortly after his first visit to the reach. They were both young and she knew that their child-like bond was going to blossom into something more. 

She made precautions to prevent it, but her son always found ways to work around her. His uncle, Renly, didn’t help with him dragging Alycilles to Highgarden every year. She saw the way she looked at him, and the way he looked at her. “Hello Margaery, Loras,” he said standing up. 

“My prince,” she said with a curtsy, keeping care of the box she held. The change to her son was noticeable, he stood straighter, smiled more, and gave her his full attention. She looked around and most seemed to notice as well. She looked to the table the tyrells sat at and saw Lady Alerie. 

She had known the lady only through her daughters fostering, and hardly cared to further it. She must also know of her daughters… infatuation with her son. It was obvious on her face. Cersei smirked as she took a sip from her goblet, watching the two younglings exchange. Loras presented her twins with a tall falcon and for hunting. A servant quickly took the falcon and caged it. 

Margaery placed the box atop the table, the thing rattling as she did so. Her son's eyes lit up as he looked up to the maid. “Is this the new cyvasse set?” he asked her as he rubbed his hand across the boxset. 

“It’s the latest set, yes. We played a lot back in Highgarden together, I hope your skills haven’t gotten rusty. I wouldn’t want to embarrass you when I utterly destroy your forces,” she teased. He smirked as he leaned forward, “oh, if I remember correctly, you never once reached my king.” 

The maid let out a scoff, “you best get to practicing then,” she said slyly. “Oh, we are _so_ having a match before you leave, my lady.” The two sent baseless banter back to each other as they talked, less about the gift he received. She heard her eldest sigh next to her, Joffrey looking uninterested the whole night so she decided to move things along. 

“My son, there are still others who wish to present you and your sister with gifts. His eyes snapped away from Margaery’s and to her own. 

“Of course mother,” he said, taking Margaery’s hand who graciously let him as he planted his lips upon it, then took her leave back to her family of roses. Her son watched her the entire time. The last of their gifts were presented to them, Robert’s brother Renly giving her son a fashioned bow and boar spear for hunts. Their cousin, Tyrek, gave them some nice horse saddles and studded boots.

After him the spider stepped forward, two servants placing a large chest on the table with him. Her daughter Saphira stood up next to her brother as they looked to Varys. “My prince, princess. Allow me to present you two with my gift to you. Go ahead. Open it,” he said. 

Her twins looked at each other, and her daughter gave her son an expression as he unclipped the lock then both of them together lifted open the head of the chest. Cersei found herself intrigued as to what the spider could have possibly got her children. She heard her daughter gasp, and her eyebrows raised.

She stood herself to get a better view and saw what the spider had gotten them. They were white stoney things with scaled gold. “What are they, rocks?” the queen said, looking as she glanced towards Varys. 

“Oh, they are more valuable than rocks, I can assure you,” the spider said with a sweet tone. 

Her son grabbed for one the stones and gripped it in his hands. “Well, come on, let us see them,” the king shouted. The twins looked at each other, then both turned to Varys who gave them a smile and bowed his head. They held them up so the whole of the throne room could see them. She honestly couldn’t tell what they could be other than fancy stones, then her son said something that surprised her. 

“Varys, are these….dragon eggs?” he asked, thumbing his fingers around the egg. The plump man smiled. 

“That is correct, my prince. From the Shadow Lands of Ashai.” Murmurs went out through all the nobles to this surprised gift. The queen's eyes widened. _Dragon eggs. Real life dragon eggs._ Now that she really looked at them, they did resemble large eggs. “Why though. We aren’t true Targaryans. What use are they to us?” the princess asked. 

“That’s true, though ages have turned them to stone, they will always be beautiful,” Varys said. That wasn’t a lie. The eggs were both the color of silver and gold, shining like a frozen sun. 

“And who knows you two. The world is full of surprises. Take care of those eggs and who knows what wonders they’ll bring you,” Varys said. 

The prince and princess simply stared at their dragone eggs, entranced with their mere shells. 

“I can picture it now. Dragons flying all over the court,” the prince said. He and his sister had a laugh together, but it seems to be only shared amongst themselves as the nobles stayed quiet. King Robert himself looked wary as he was leaning forward on the iron throne, peering down at the dragon eggs himself. The queen noticed, and wondered what Robert was thinking. He had a hidden despisement for their twins. They reminded him of the Targaryans. She can see it in his eyes at times. 

A blur of gold passed by her chair, taking her to her daughters side. “I want a dragon egg too,” her youngest son's high voice squealed. Princess Saphira looked down to her brother, smiling at him. “I’m sorry Tommen, there’s only two, but, you can come over to see them anytime,” she said. 

The plump prince blushed at her, nodded his head and walked back to his seat. The king gruffed and got up from the iron throne. The queen eyed him the whole time as he marched down the steps. Her son took notice as well and was watching him too as the king rounded on him. Suddenly that blacksmith, Mott, was standing before them and one of his helpers held something underneath a cloth. She watched them place the object on the table with a heavy thud as Robert moved to Mott. “My prince, your father and I have been working together on this project for some time now, and I have to say, I’m proud to present this to you on your name day,” Mott said. He removed the cloth and revealed a large hammer that was just as tall as the prince himself. “Ooohs,” sounded all around as people tried to lean forward to get a good look. The prince stood from his chair and anxiously grabbed the hammers shaft. The shaft was long and black with circular golden accentuated rings layered in sections. The head of the hammer was cast metal with a spiked face and a pointed horn at the butt. 

The prince rotated his wrist, turning the hammer to see a well designed symbol etched into the metal with golden paint. 

“The thing is a replica of my own hammer. With some differences made,” the king said. Alycilles looked at both of them, his face contorted into shock with wide eyes. “Go on, give it a lift.” 

The prince tried to lift the hammer upwards but the weight of it made him strain. He took a few steps trying to balance himself and keep the hammer high. His father laughed loudly, “you’ll need to build up some more muscle to maintain this glorious weapon.” The prince laid the hammer down carefully but it came down hard, disturbing the table. His face was red as he relaxed. “Thank you father, and you too Mott.” Mott bowed and soon after left the throne room while all the gifts that were given to the twins were taken away, except the eggs which they both were adamant in keeping by their side. 

* * *

The night was growing old and getting closer to the hour of the wolf with many attendees still drinking and dancing. The prince himself danced a couple of times, with many different ladies. Pie faced Moon Boy was still dancing around on stilts, mocking the many nobles with such debt one would consider if he was truly simple. 

A couple of times, Alycilles had to maneuver his way out of Moon Boy’s way, dodging the fool's wooden legs as he danced. Margaery Tyrell and Princess Saphira joined Alycilles as they danced together to the soothing music. It was magical, the mixture of wine and song relaxing them. They were having fun, grinning ear to ear until they nearly tripped over each other's feet to a loud booming voice. The king had grown louder with each course. Now everybody heard him. “No,” he thundered in a voice that drowned out all others.

The prince and his dancing partners stopped to see the king on his feet, red of face and reeling. He had a goblet of wine in one hand, and was as drunk as a man could be. “You do not tell me what to do, woman,” he screamed at Queen Cersei. “I am king here, do you understand? I rule here, and if I say that I will fight tomorrow, _I will fight!”_

Everyone was staring. The prince saw Ser Barristan, and his Uncle Renly, and Baelish all look towards the king but none made a move. The queen's face was a mask, bloodless and cold that it might have been carved from snow. The prince was going to move forward and speak his voice but his sister grabbed his arm, giving a look to not interfere. With him frozen in place, the queen rose from the table, gathering her skirts around her, and stormed off in silence, walking past her son, servants trailing behind. 

The prince watched his mother leave with no word or goodbye. Jaime Lannister put a hand on the king’s shoulder, but the king shoved him hard away. Lannister stumbled and fell. The king guffawed. “The great knight. I can still knock you in the dirt. Remember that, Kingslayer.” He slapped his chest with the jewel goblet, splashing wine all over his satin tunic. “Give me my hammer, and not a man in the realm can stand before me.” Jaime lannister rose and brushed himself off. “As you say, your Grace.” His voice was stiff. 

That was when the prince released himself from his sister who was still holding onto him. He stepped towards his father, eyes quickly turning to him. “With all due respect father, there's not a man in the realm who would dare raise their blade against their king, let alone shame him in a tourney,” the prince said believably. 

The king scoffed at him. “You believe that these lots would actually let me win. You don’t think I have it in me to knock these fools on their asses?” the king questioned. Before the prince could respond, Renly added his own voice. 

“Brother, what the prince simply means is, the privileges of a king stretch further than his court. What man wants to be known as the one who would shame their king so.” The king seemed to accept that as he simply grumbled and took to his wine. With that the feast died down, many leaving and returning to their chambers for a night's rest. The prince had servants take he and his sisters gifts to their chambers, but the two brought their dragon eggs back personally. Alycilles made sure his sister made it to her room safely before returning to his own. When he entered his room he saw the servants did a good job of placing his gifts around. They covered his table, nearly full. 

He saw the hammer his father gave him hanging on a weapons rack he had in his room. He cleared away some space on his dresser and put a makeshift cradle with sand inside atop it. He softly planted his egg onto the sand, it’s scales glinting in the candle light that lit his room. When the egg felt stable, he removed his jerkins and breeches, stripping down to his small clothes. He felt a little chilly in his bare skin. He looked back to his egg. The sand cradle was Varys’ idea, for whatever reason he didn’t quite specify, but they heeded his words. The Spider was right. The egg was beautiful. Gold scales with a silver shell. _Could I really hatch this thing? Could I really have a dragon of my own._ He ran his hands gently over the egg, feeling the sleeping stone. 

He closed his eyes in thought and smiled. _A fool’s dream. Maybe._ He walked away from the egg and pulled back his bed skirts and plopped himself within, pulling the covers over him. He blew out the candles near his bed and sunk his head into his feathered pillow. Dreaming of dragons.


	7. Tourneys, Promises, and Things In-between Part II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the continuation to part I of the tourney.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it's been awhile since i posted so I atleast wanted to get something out before the year was over.

The darkness was pitch, shadows engulfing all forms of light leaving none to escape. It was a new, weird and unfamiliar sensation that overcame him. He tried to move but there was barely any space to stretch his legs. His legs...they felt odd...small...and thin, and unfamiliar as well.  
He tried to open his eyes but that proved to be difficult for him.  
His eyelids felt like he was trying to lift two men in full plated armor. He tried to move his arms too, but he struggled with that as well, and they felt odd and...thin, and his hands felt weird.  
The more he tried to move the more he realized there was no room to move. His mind went to himself trapped within a cage, like an animal.  
Was this a dream? He tried to speak but no words came from his mouth. Just awkward squalling, like a newborn babe. It had to be a dream. A dream that felt very real, but not one where he was in his own body.  
He tried once more to open his eyes, and this time he felt them give way. Light suddenly broke through the darkness, his eyelids heavy but still giving way as they met a red stoned ceiling. He raised his hands to the ceiling, and they looked and felt normal.  
He flexed his fingers one at a time. So, it was a dream then.  
His slumber was over and so was the weird dream. He tried to recall it but it quickly fleeted from his mind. He rubbed his head, sweat dotting all over his face he realized. Not quite a fever.  
He yawned loudly, throwing his thoughts away as he pulled away his bed sheets and hopped down to the floor. The sudden jump was a rush for his body, as it took him a moment to stable himself.  
He was still somewhat tired, his body waking up slowly, and it took a few blink of his eyes to fully wake them up.  
It was a bright King’s Landing morning as the prince dressed himself in some Lannister garbs, colors red and gold. The tourney was to resume as soon as the sun was high, and Alycilles was still in the running, the jousting would finish up, and he was expected to face off against Loras. People have been calling Loras his rival for years, a rivalry the prince has been meaning to settle for awhile.  
And then there was the melee as well.  
That will be more difficult than jousting.  
His wandering eyes rested on his silver egg. He made his way over, his feet padding against his myrish carpet, and gazed down on the thing, still and quiet. He traced his hand over the object, a shell of silver, and scales of gold. A jewel more priceless than all the gold in Casterly Rock.  
He was ready to start his day when a knock came to his door, ringing throughout his chambers. He strolled to his brownwood door and opened it, eyes meeting a feminine gaze. His mother's brown haired handmaiden stood there before him, eyes curious as she scanned him. She curtsied and informed him that the queen has requested he attend his families morning of breaking their fast together. If his mother sent Bernadetta then all of his siblings would be there.  
He wondered if he’d see his father, but the hope was a fleeting one.  
The man liked to break his fast by gorging himself with whores.  
He nodded his head and closed the door once she said goodbye with a bob of her head.  
He looked back to his egg, and grabbed the cradle it rested in. He turned to his large chest that he kept most of his trinkets in, and hid the egg within, and locked it shut. He hoped this was just cautious thinking, but it wouldn’t be smart to leave a dragon egg laying around the Red Keep, even if it was in the room of a prince. He thought to his twin, and hoped his sister was smart of thinking and did the same.

* * *

The princess stared within the mirror, sharp eyes fixated on the image of herself. Her frame was tall and slender, with curves already forming together with her gown. Behind her stood a tall frail lady, wearing a gray gown brushing the princess’ hair, straightening it out, but the curls kept forming. Around her, ladies moved to and fro pressing clothes to her body, all the while she stood there like a porcelain doll succumbed to a fine polishing.  
Her eyes of an earthy green and a rushing sea of blue went to her mother who lay on a sofa, overseeing her as she was dressed.  
“The red and gold dress would do fine Matilda,” the queen spoke, pointing to the soft red dress that rested on the dresser. The frail woman bowed her head and ordered the two servant girls helping her to bring the golden dress with the wash of red to her.  
The princess didn’t mind, even though she liked to dress herself, having assistance and those to serve her was relaxing. She had access to the finest clothing one can ask for, and she asked for a lot, having a full closet of finely sewn dresses and silk gowns.  
“The red one is nice. What do you think mother?” she asked.  
“It goes well with you my darling. You remind me of myself at your age.”  
Queen Cersei walked over to her daughter as she fitted herself within her gown. The gown layed her shoulders bare, and reached passed her legs, flowing across the ground like a long fiery mane. Her skin was smooth and glowed like her mothers, her silky hair lining down her back, the color of white gold. They said the princess would grow into a beauty greater than the queen, while most would say she already had. “Well Matilda. You fashioned my daughter well. Now come along Saphira. We're going to break our fast with your siblings.”  
Matilda and her helpers left the room, bowing to the queen who looked quite pleased with her daughter. Saphira looked at herself in the mirror, and smiled in a way similar to the queen, then walked over to her dresser and uncovered her dragon egg. There were times when she couldn't keep her eyes from staring at the thing, losing herself in a trance. Even now she was caught as she failed to see her mother walking beside her.  
“A strange thing. Of all the places for dragon eggs to end up. Dragons have been gone from Westero for some time, though their bones rest down below in the cellars,” the queen said.  
“Yes, Allie and I have seen them before,” she said, giving her mother a quick smile. She noticed her mother eyeing the scaled egg, fascination playing across her face. “Do you think it will hatch mother?” she asked.  
The queen huffed. “You better hope they don’t, or else you’ll stir something up within your father,” she said. Yes their father hadn’t spoken how he felt about their eggs. He most likely didn’t find any care for them, and would sell them to the highest bidder if he had the chance.  
“Well, we should be on our way mother. Wouldn't want to keep everyone waiting.” The queen snapped out of her gaze, and swiftly turned on her heel, heading to the door. The princess watched her leave then placed her egg underneath her dresser, then locked it.  
The two walked out of the princess’ chambers and made their way down the hall, flanked by red coats.  
“So mother. Will you be watching the melee? Alycilles will be partaking?” she asked.  
“Of Course. My son decides he wants to be a full fledged copy of his father. If he has any of his father's strength and skill, my worries will be for naught,” the queen said. Saphira looked into her mother's eyes, searching for any form of insincerity, but her mother's green eyes were unreadable.  
“I understand how you feel. Alycilles is a gifted fighter, but my worries lie on those he would face. Practically all of Westeros will be clashing their swords. I would hate to see my brother maimed… or worse.” the queen's eyes flinched slightly as she pursed her lips.  
“You could have talked to him. Your...closeness to him has its own sway,” the queen said. “Even I can’t convince him. He always talks about following in the footsteps of Uncle Jaime, and growing a renown name that stretches all over the world.”  
“Yes, your Uncle Jaime is filling his head with these notions no doubt. If I threw a chainmail over myself maybe your brother would heed into my advice,” the queen said. A giggle flew out the princess’s mouth.  
“Alycilles listens to you mother, he just has his own notions on things,” the princess said. The queen huffed and rolled her eyes, pouting more than using her words. Saphira simply hid a smile.  
The dining hall was busy with a flow of servants rushing in and out, moving faster at the approach of the queen and princess. Passing a few bowing servants, they entered the room and she saw three of her siblings had already arrived.  
Myrcella, Tommen, and Joffrey were already seated, the two youngest turning their heads to the new attendees while Joffrey kept his attention elsewhere. Ser Arys and Ser Meryn were standing guard outside the door, most likely having escorted the royal children here.  
“All of my cubs here except one,” the queen said, looking upon them. As if sensing his presence was needed, Prince Alycilles suddenly entered the room, gaining the eyes of all. Joffrey took notice of him and scoffed, “late as usual Alycilles, you sure like to lower the qualities of a prince,” the proud boy said. Alycilles stopped in his tracks, turning to his smirking brother.  
“My apologies, your royal crankiness, didn’t get enough of my beauty sleep, so I figured you wouldn’t mind,” her twin sent back with a wink of his eye, his voice soft but the fire was still there.  
“Save it for later you two. We came here to share breakfast, not words of insult,” their queen mother said. Both Joffrey and Alycilles looked at their mother who eyed them fiercely into submission. Joffrey merely sucked on his teeth as he returned his gaze back onto nothing, and Alycilles took his seat, Saphira following him. Tommen was next to Joffrey, sinking into his seat as he relaxed from his brother's exchange. Myrcella, next to Saphira, tried to look past her to gain her brother's attention, but Alycilles was playing with his fork, tapping it against his empty plate.  
The princess made a move to break the spell that captured him, “Well good morning to you too,” she said to him, her attempt to gain his absent attention. He bounded his head up and looked at her, somewhat surprised. “Oh, sorry Phira, good morning,” he said. She raised an eyebrow, her brother's lack of presence was evident to her.  
“What’s wrong. Is your mind somewhere else?” she asked. “Just thinking about the melee. This will be the first time I partake in one with full fledged knights who have more experience in these things. My stomach is acting up too. I might not be able to keep anything down until after the tourney.”  
Servants soon began to trail back into their dining room carrying trays of food to fill their plates. Fried eggs, bacon, sausage, buttered biscuits with jams, and juice from squeezed oranges. It all looked delicious to her, even the smell of the freshly cooked bacon had her savoring it.  
Her siblings all soon began to dig into their meals, all expect Alycilles she saw. He was staring simply staring at the food, his face looking queasy as he picked at his eggs.  
“You have to at least eat something. You’ll need the energy Allie,” she said. His face contorted into understanding, his face shifting away from the queasy look, as he ate some of his eggs. Her brother's mood was getting better as he began to interact with the rest of their siblings.  
“So Tommen, you looking forward to seeing me in the melee?” Alycilles asked. The plump prince perked up at his brother's question and nodded his head enthusiastically. “I can’t wait. Me and Myrcella are going to be in the front rows to watch you,” the boy said sweetly.  
“Myrcella and I, Tommen,” Alycilles corrected him.  
“Right, Myrcella and I,” Tommen said. The youngest Baratheon daughter leaned forward on the table, inserting herself into their talk.  
“You still need to win the jousting first brother,” the golden haired princess said, giggling.  
“Your right Cella, maybe I should wear your favor for good luck. The gods wouldn’t dare let me lose with me sporting my sweet little sister's charm,” Alycilles said cheekily, as he smiled softly at the princess. The young princess's cheeks turned rosey, and she couldn’t help but shy away from her brother's gleaming smile. A voice that was usually refrained from taking part in their talks suddenly decided they wanted to be heard.  
“That is unless you get skewered first, brother,” Joffrey suddenly said. Saphira turned her gaze to him, Joffrey’s usual smirk stained across his face. The room grew quiet, their youngest siblings looking to Joffrey and then back to Alycilles. Saphira did the same, and waited to see how her brother would respond.  
“Well maybe you should join me brother. Keep me from getting stabbed in the back..before you decide to do it yourself.” This time his tone was colder, and the look he gave Joffrey wasn’t the cheery one he gave Myrcella. The queen paused her eating and stared down the long table. Saphira could see her eyes going over them, but Joffrey and Alycilles ignored her.  
“Why would you need my help. Aren’t you the great nursling warrior of Westeros. The Avenger right, slayer of Greyjoys,” Joff said with a hearty chuckle.  
Alycilles squinted his eyes as he and Joffrey had a stare off, the tension between the two causing goosebumps to ride down her arms. Her twin face had an amused look and he was about to say something as his mouth opened but no words came out as the queen quickly intervened.  
“Enough you two,” she said, rising to her feet. “It appears a happy family breakfast won’t be accomplished today,” she said eyeing Alcyilles who eyed her right back. She didn’t even once glance at Joffrey when she spoke. Her twin stood up wiping his mouth with a cloth, “I need to prepare anyway,” he finished, throwing the cloth on the table. Saphira gently grabbed onto his hand, looking up to him.  
“I’ll see you out there,” he said, then planted a gentle kiss on her cheek. It was a long one, his lips just barely touching her own, then he was gone, walking out the room as she watched. When he was out of her sight she found herself looking onto her mother who simply stared back, face unreadable but from the way she looked at her, something was running through her mother's mind.

* * *

The tourney fields were as lively as the other day Saphira noticed while she strolled through the grounds. Her young sister Myrcella was by her side, along with her cousins, Joy, Myrielle, and Cerenna, following her after breaking their fast. The young princess was giddy with excitement, skipping in place as they walked. The men of the field would casually gaze towards them, sending greetings to them and bowing graciously, but mostly to Princess Saphira. She gave them smiles, and waved her hand, keeping her chin high.  
Every so often some knight would approach her asking for her favor, to which she would play around the subject, teasing them leaving them clueless to her answer.  
Myrielle and Cerenna would follow her lead, teasing the knights and the young future lords, flustering them, all the while Myrcella and Joy giggled with rosey faces as they watched, even taking notes. Their jovial moods were suddenly shifted as the princess stopped when a man came to stand before her.  
The princess's eyes were wide with surprise at first but cooled down to her usual calm gaze as she eyed the man up and down. The man's short raven hair was glistening with sweat, his thin viper eyes were focused on the princess, as he gave her a roguish smile.”  
“Prince Oberyn. What a random surprise. Though it’s no coincidence that you're out in the yard. I see your stalking the fields. Looking to see the type of competition you’ll have in the melee?” the Princess asked. The dornish prince’s grin shifted to a fun smile, one the princess was amused by. “You have me deduced princess. I did not get the chance to ride in the list the day before, so you can look forward to me partaking in the melee” he said.  
“You have a lot of strong competition left Prince Oberyn. Like my brother for instant, and the Knight of Flowers,” Saphira said with a beatific look. The man squinted his viper like eyes as he sucked on his tongue but the princess kept the same gaze, her face as unreadable yet mischievous all the same. The ladies behind her simply kept quiet as they watched the exchange.  
“Ah yes, the famous Avenger. I only made his acquaintance a few times when he made his tour through Dorne, through my niece of course. Your brother hasn’t come across me as much as I come across you,” he said returning to his usual grin.  
“My brother can be quite the busy man, I assure you there’s no scorn in it. Maybe you’ll meet on the field,” she said. He nodded his head.  
“Maybe I will, princess.” After Oberyn bowed to her and to the ladies behind her, and made his way off, spear in hand.  
“A lot of strange, out of place faces here, wouldn’t you say, Myrielle? Cerenna Asked her sister.  
“Strange faces indeed. I wonder if we’ll see any drama start from it,” the blonde girl said with a sly smile in the direction of Saphira.  
“That mind of yours is always up to something devious,” Saphira said. The two sisters looked towards each other and held back giggles, faces written with guilt at the princess’s claim.  
“What is she up too?” Myrcella perked up, taking interest in their talks. Princess Saphira looked down to her young sister, not as oblivious as she thought. “Most likely has something to do with Alycilles,” Saphira said, turning back to the sisters as they continued their walk.  
“It’s always about Alycilles with them,” Joy suddenly said, her face bright and green eyes glowing, as she rushed up to stand by their side.  
The two sisters both turned their view, tufts of golden hair following them as their eyes beamed at Joy. she didn’t back down though from them though, like a true Lannister.  
“Don’t act like we haven’t seen you staring at the prince too..Joy,” Myrielle said with an edge at the end of her speech.  
“Allie is my closest friend. If I were to offer my favor, I'm sure he would take it before you two,” she said with confidence as she turned her nose up to them. The two Lannister girls were befuddled, trying to regain their commonplace composure. Cerenna stopped in front of Joy, causing her to halt in her steps. Princess Saphira and Myrcella stopped as well and turned their view to them.  
She knew where this was going.  
The two sisters have a way of being abaseful when they feel slighted, and with Joy being the one to deliver it, it could knock their egos down a peg. Cerenna positioned herself accordingly, placing her two hands on her hips and raising her chin high. “I really doubt that, considering bastards should remember their place,” she said. A rash of red formed across Joys nose, spreading just under her eyes. Her eyes fell to the floor, looking to be growing misty as she bit her lip.  
“Alright that’s enough. You two don’t need to claw at each others throats just for my brother's attention, and frankly I'm tired of hearing you two go back and forth,” she said sharply, “besides, there’s only one lady who’s favor he choose over all others, and if your not careful, her hidden thorns could prick you.” She resumed walking, and the rest followed in tow, keeping up with the princess’s skirt tail.  
They made their way around tents and stands, crossing the fields until they reached just near the jousting grounds when they came across a red headed girl, standing together with another girl, brown of hair gazing at ongoing knights. Saphira found her attention on them, curiosity swaying her actions.  
She changed her course and approached the girls. She could hear them whispering to each other and giggling as they stood close, pointing at different knights. Their backs were turned to her, so rather than cross in front of them she decided to spook them, tapping on both of their shoulders, causing the girls to jump in place.  
They both turned in unison, the brown haired girl gasping before the princess, and the red haired one giving off a surprised, “oh,” as her blue eyes widened.  
They both awkwardly bowed until they found their grace, rising back up with professional smiles stitched across their faces.  
“Lady Sansa. Lady Jeyne. How are you two enjoying the tourney? Saphira asked. The two girls beamed at her question, Jeyne in her excited state was the first to speak, beating a frustrated Sansa. “It’s quite marveling. I find myself staring at all the different sigils. I never seen this many houses grouped up before,” the brown haired girl said with spirit. The Princess gave a slight smirk and nodded her head then turned to Sansa.  
“And what do you think Sansa?” the princess asked. The redhead peaked up and parted her lips as she spoke.  
“I’ve won a few bets during the joust.”  
“Oh, a few lucky picks you’ve had,” Saphira said. The girl blushed and nodded. “A few,” she responded with.  
“Oh, and which lucky knight has blessed our lady with wealth?” princess Saphira asked. Sansa looked to Jeyne who suppressed a giggled look to the floor. “The prince. Prince Alycilles. I couldn’t help but place my bets on him each time he took to the tilts,”  
Sansa said hummingly. Saphira smiled, letting a charming giggle escape her lips.  
“My lady gives my brother great praise. I see you still have your favor. Why don’t you grant it to him before the melee,” Saphira said. The girl's eyes widened at the thought. “I...I don't know. Would it be right when I’m not betrothed to him. Arya should be the one to offer her favor,” she said through a stammer.  
“Maybe, but I take it Arya isn’t the one to indulge herself in the activities of a lady,” Saphira said. Sansa looked to the side, somewhat eyeing the area, then nodded her head.  
“Ayra would rather join the knights with their horses,” Sansa said. Jeyne chuckled, “Horseface might find some company amongst the horses,” Jeyne said next. The three of them shared a laugh together, Saphira finding them quite amusing.  
Sansa was taking to King’s Landing fairly well, but still had that innocent face that one has before succumbing to King’s Landing.  
Jeyne suddenly said, “oh, look, it’s the prince,” pointing her hand to where a crowd was forming. All the girls turned their heads to see Prince Alycilles, walking along with Loras Tyrell and his brother Garlan Tyrell.  
They were chatting it up, speaking closely together and laughing.  
“Well Lady Sansa, here’s your chance now, unless you're feeling a little craven,” Saphira said.  
“Oh, Cerenna, are you going to let the Stark girl beat you in your quest for the prince,” Myrielle said, turning to her sister.  
Cerenna looked at Sansa, who had stopped in her place, turning to the two Lannisters. “Hmm, let the Stark girl have this one. This can be her initiation into our circle, Cerenna said.  
The girls around them giggled, Jeyne gave Sansa a quizzical look that had a face full off restrained excitement. Cerenna made her way to Saphira’s side, as the excited ladies giggled with each other.  
“Isn't Lady Sansa betrothed to Prince Joffrey. Wouldn’t it seem out of place for his younger brother to be receiving his betrothed favor,” she whispered to her.  
“That outta stir up some talk,” Myrielle added to her sister's comment. The girls didn’t seem to have a sense of care in their tone, simply wanting to stir their own trouble.  
Her brother saw them standing there, turning his own gaze to her with a smile. Sansa timidly stepped forward, clenching both of her hands together, light breaths leaving her mouth as she held her shoulders straight and head high.  
Saphira saw the girl struggling to find her courage, and was debating with herself if she should give her a push, but Sansa suddenly stopped completely when a tuft of brown hair suddenly swirled into view. Saphira spotted her quickly, not surprised to see her, by her brother's side.  
Margaery Tyrell, a true lady amongst ladies. She has a habit of appearing at the most opportune time. For her that is. They watched as Margaery greeted her brothers, giving them kisses on their cheeks, her own form of grace surrounding her.  
She then stood face to face with Alycilles, both of them never leaving each other's look. “Well, that must be upsetting,” Cerenna said, stepping next to Saphira and Sansa. The red head turned to the blonde Lannister girl, her mouth agape but no words escaping. “It’s only right. The rose suddenly appears, along with her beauty. My brother is quite familiar with the comely maid,” Saphira said.  
Sansa turned to her with a curious expression. “Oh, look now,” Cerenna spoke up. Margaery held her hand out to her brother, a dark green ribbon was within her palm, flowing with the wind, never leaving her grip.  
Her brother held out his arm with a charming smile plastered across his face, as the maiden of Highgarden tied the ribbon to his forearm.  
“She’s giving him her favor. Bold of our prince to accept,” Cerenna said. The other girls nodded their approval as Princess Myrcella marched forward.  
“Margaery isn’t betrothed to anyone. She’s free to do what she will,” Princess Myrcella suddenly said, adding herself to the talks of the older girls.  
All three of the ladies looked at her, expressions full of surprise and shock. “Oh, someone favors the flower maiden. And what of your brother. Shouldn’t he seek out the favor of the one he is betrothed to?” Myrielle asked, being as bold as brass.  
The princess looked stuck when asked the question. “Well..maybe,” she eventually said. “Arya has no favors to give. I doubt she even knows what they are,” Sansa suddenly spoke up for her. The small princess seemed comfortable enough to agree, nodding her head and chuckling lightly.  
All the time they talked Saphira watched as her brother continued to fraternize with Margaery.  
“Come ladies. Let us add ourselves to their talks,” Saphira said as she began to stroll over to the Silver Stag and Flower of Highgarden. The girls hurriedly rushed to follow Saphira, the group of girls all eager for the coming interaction. As they grew closer, they could hear the two laughing together as their words became coherent with each step they took.  
“Oh I'm sure Garlan can assist you in that regard,” came the words of Margeary Tyrell as they approached. Saphira suddenly spoke up, gaining the attention of the Tyrells and her brother.  
“Oh, is my brother looking for some aid?”  
Prince Alycilles looked to her, straightening his back as he saw the ladies that flanked her. Saphira smiled as she turned to Margaery who gave her own smile as she shifted her figure, a faint guard forming across her face, and then she looked to Garlan who tried to give off his own delightful smile to the princess.  
That amused her.  
“I’m simply giving our prince here a few pointers for the coming melee. His nerves are nearly getting the best of him, which is surprising to me,” he said then turned to Alycilles, “you always came off with superior confidence back in Highgarden. What’s so different now?”  
The prince looked at all the eyes on him. His two sisters standing there, little Myrcella eyeing him curiously, his cousins of Casterly Rock and even Sansa Stark, and Jeyne Poole.  
That one surprised him as he made eye contact with her. Her cheeks took on the shade of red as her eyes wavered, but found them back on him as she gave a hint of a smile. “Way to put me on the spot, Garlan. There weren’t nearly this many people competing back in Highgarden. Nearly every holding in Westeros is vacant because of this tourney,” Alycilles said.  
“Just more of a chance to prove yourself. To let yourself stand out right,” Garlan said. “Yeah, I'll stand out when I see victory against Highgarden’s praised warriors,” Alycilles said, eyeing both Loras and Garlan with a brazen face.  
“Here that Garlan. I think our prince has forgotten that he never bested me at Highgarden,” Loras said.  
“And I think you forgot, Ser Loras, that you only won on technicalities. You never once unseated me and that's where it truly counts,” Alycilles barked out. Loras simply gave him a friendly chuckle as he swayed his bangs from out of his face. Loras was someone who’s been in her brother's shadow ever since they made their acquaintance in Highgarden. Her brother though, has yet to beat the Knight of Flowers in any tourney. Always coming in second to him. The sun was shining bright upon them, and Loras glowed like a young Jaime Lannister, but to her brother though, Loras couldn’t compare.  
“Excuses. Excuses,” Loras replied.  
“Well, you two will be able to settle this long bedded rivalry. Both of you are still in the joust, and seem to be in top form,” Saphira said, then turned to Garlen Tyrell, “ Garlan, are you not competing in the joust? The knight in green armor turned to her, “I decided to stay out of this one. I’m here mainly for the melee.” Saphira then turned to her brother and Loras.  
“I see. Then the main attraction will be these two here.” The princess then decided to bring up the topic that had her band of ladies in an uproar.  
“So, Margaery. I see you gave your favor to Alycilles,” she said, eyeing the green fabric that strained itself to her brother's arm. The lady in question blinked as she eyed the princess.  
The girls soft lips began to move, “Many knights are given favors from ladies. They say it brings them much luck in the field and encourages them to bring out the best of their abilities,” she said.  
The princess didn’t smile when Margaery offered her own and turned to her brother. “I see. I guess everyone needs a boost in confidence in these regards. Even my dear brother.”  
Her brother added his voice to their talk. “Oh don’t be so worried sister. Just enjoy the show. I assure you this will be a tourney they talk about for years to come,” Alycilles said.  
Saphira, gave him an innocent smile, and nodded.  
To that a horn blasted off signaling the continuation of the joust. Everyone that had gathered around the prince turned their heads in the direction of the jousting fields.  
“Come Loras. We should head out there,” the prince said.  
The Knight of Flowers nodded his head, “farewell ladies. May we meet again after the tourney,” Loras said, walking away with Alycilles and Garlan. The princess watched as her brother and other knights made their way to the tilts, passing all the different tents. Saphira suddenly turned towards Magaery who did the same, turning towards her, framing her face with her usual smile. She’s mastered that well. Shall we head to our box then ladies. They all nodded with approval, and the two ladies led the way together, chins held high as their pathway was cleared of those who would block their path.

* * *

The jousting yard was riling up as more people found their seats. Saphira sat patiently, her shoulders still and stiff as her eyes lurked around the field. Beside her sat her sister, Princess Myrcella to her right, and Lady Margaery to her left, and surrounding them, were the rest of the ladies that accompanied her. Her father and mother were present together, patiently waiting for the competitors to take to the fields. “So, ladies. Care to take any bets?” Saphira asked suddenly.  
The girls around her all turned their to the princess, a variety of expressions taking form across their forces. Some finding interest in betting, curiosity slowly taking them over as they grew closer to the princess’s attention.  
“What sort of bets?” Sansa Stark asked suddenly. Saphira looked down and smiled at the red faced girl. “You pick a rider, anyone that you deemed worthy of your choice, and you place your bet on him for the whole joust.”  
The girls found themselves gazing at each other, Saphira could see the interest playing through their eyes. “So we only bet on one rider?” Sansa asked.  
“That’s and as long as that rider last in the joust the better chances you have at winning the gold prize in the end,” the princess said.  
“So, as long as the rider we choose stays in the joust the better chances we have at winning. And what if our chosen jouster loses,” Margarey asked the princess herself. “If your chosen rider loses then you add your gold to the pot, and you're out of the game as you watch one of us win,” the princess said.  
“And whoever wins in the end gets all the gold,” Sansa said excitedly. “That's right,” the princess answered with a smile. “So ladies, who shall bet on whom?”  
Out of the corner of Saphira’s eye, she saw Margaery Tyrell quickly hide a mischievous smirk, “Well, since I gave my favor to Alycilles already, it's only right that he’s exclusive to me,” Margaery said, lips curling with her smile. The girls looked at her, then at each other strangely.  
“Oh, you're not going to bet on Loras. Quite different,” Saphira said.  
“Well, going against your normality can often be beneficial,” Margaery said. The princess simply squinted her eyes at the maiden.  
The Tyrell maid raised a single eyebrow, “Or did you want to bet on your brother,” Margaery said with a good-humored expression. Saphira pressed her lips together, forcing a smile. “No, I'll go against my normal means too, and bet on Loras,” Saphira said. Sansa looked at the two of them, her mouth slightly open as she attempted to add herself to their talks. “Well, who does that leave us with. You two chose the best knights,” she said.  
“I agree with Sansa,” Myrcella said, “who to say I didn't want to bet on Allie,” the princess pouted. Margaery looked at the girl's pouting face and showed some sympathy for her.  
“Tell you what Princess Myrcella. You can add your bet to mine, and when we win, we can share the winnings,” she said. This brought a smile to the young princesses face who clapped her hands together. “Good, no one can best my brother,” she said.  
“Such confidence, princess. I’ll take the one knight who has wisdom with age. Ser Barristan should prove to be a dutiful rider,” Myrielle said.  
“Ser Barristan,” Cerenna exclaimed.  
Her sister turned to her, “well, of course. He trained Alycilles, probably taught him all he knew. Why wouldn’t the teacher be better than the student,” Myrielle said to her.  
“Yes, but he’s not the same young man he once was. Age plays a factor, no matter how good you are,” Cerenna said. Some of the girls around them nodded in agreement. “Well then who do you choose then,” Myrielle said.  
“That red priest seems to be in top form as well,” Cerenna spoke.  
“Thoros of Myr,” Saphira said to her.  
“Yes. Thoros,” Cerenna said.  
“That fat old priest,” Myrielle said with a snort. “How did he last so long.”  
“what about you Arianne? You've been quiet,” Saphira asked the dornish princess. The brown skinned princess turned to her counterpart, “Well, with the options left, I'll place my bet on Beric Dondarrion,” the princess said. “Very well ladies. We all set our bets. Now let the games begin,” Saphira said cheekily.

* * *

The second part of the jousting soon began as the first set of riders took to the field. Barristan Selmy was lined up across the list with Beric Dondarrion at the other end. “Ah, it seems your chosen warriors are up first,” Saphira said, taking note to the two men on the field. They both looked hardened and full of energy, even Ser Barristan who seemed to be leaving his age along with the men he bested across the dirt.  
The two seem eager to start the match, bowing to Saphira’s father and mother and taking their place at the ends of the list, awaiting the horn.  
“Here’s your chance to forfeit now Myrielle. Save you the embarrassment,” Princess Arianne spoke to the girl. A couple of laughs escaped the ladies mouth as Myrielle turned her red face to Arianne. “Such confidence. You’ll be eating those words real soon princess,” the girl snickered out.  
The sound of the horn blaring signaling the start of the match gathered their attention as they watched the two men rush each other as they trailed down the list. The horses let out screams, kicking up dirt from the ground, the two men with both of their lances aimed for one another.  
In a blur they passed each other, their lances grazing off of their shields. The crowds groaned with disappointment as no rider met the ground, but as the two made their way back around the list, anticipation grew again as everyone was leaning forward.  
This time the riders met, they proved who wanted it more when Beric’s lance met the center of Selmy’s chest, flinging him off his horse and onto the ground. The crowds went up into an uproar and cheers and disappointment, some expecting the famed knight to take this victory.  
“Well well well. That’s one win for me ladies. I’ll take my gold dragons,” the princess of Dorne said to Myrielle. The girl's face twisted to slight anger until she sighed and pulled out a small purse that jingled with her movement. She then proceeded to give a handful of gold coins to the princess.  
“Pleasure doing business with you Lannister,” Arrianne said with a smile. Next up were Aron Santagar and Robar Royce. The two men gave quite the show, with Aron Santagar coming out victorious. The girls kept their focus on the matches, making change ups to their picks whenever unfamiliar faces took to the field.  
Jason Mallister, the lord of Seagard defeated a few young Frey boys, until squaring off against the prince himself, with Alycilles emerging victorious. Those were the moments the girls looked forward to the most, seeing the Silver Prince, and the Knight of Flowers sent their hearts in a flutter. The two had been running through many at the list, Loras defeating Thoros and Beric, and Alycilles claiming victory over Robar Royce and Balon Swann who had the favor of some of the crowds, and disappointing a few who had their bets on him, leaving the two rivals as the final foes.  
The girls all looked at each other as they realized the situation they were in. The crowds of nobles and commoners both roared when they saw who the two final jousters were.  
The rivalry between the two was known from the Reach and all the way to the Crownlands, and tales of how the Silver Stag and the Flower knight totally controlled and dominated the tourneys of Highgarden.  
Bets could be heard from around the nobles and commoners, the names of Alycilles and Loras were being thrown all around them. “Of Course it’s our brothers in the final round,” Margaery said.  
“Did you expect something different? Not to sound vain, but the two have been showing off all morning,” Saphira said.  
“I wonder. Which of you two will win the whole pot?” Myrielle said.  
“Well we're going to find out soon,” Joy added.  
A shout from behind them surprised them suddenly. One hundred gold dragons on the Knight of Flowers,” Renly Baratheon shouted out. The girls turned their necks to see the Lord of Storm's End sitting there smiling.  
“Betting against your own nephew Lord Renly. I’ll match that bet, putting my own gold on the prince,” Baelish proclaimed aloud.  
“Any surprise you bet on Loras, uncle,” Saphira said snidely. Renly's face turned a shade of red as those around him chuckled at his expense. Renly was about to respond to her, but the look in the princesses eyes dared him to say something back, and Renly didn’t want to take that challenge.  
“It will be a interesting match,” Arianne whispered to Saphira.  
“To be honest. I’m sure Alycilles will come out to prevail. Loras is good, but...there’s something about Alycilles that you don’t want to challenge when he’s in his element,” she said. Saphira found the girl's words to be quite true. Arianne knew her brother quite well.  
“Your right Arianne. In fact I would of betted on my brother if the perfect maid hadn’t already,” Saphira said. The dornish princess giggled, sharing a smile with Saphira as they looked back onto the field.

* * *

“You sure you're okay. That last joust you were in seemed pretty rough,” Tyrek asked the boy fixing his armor. Alycilles grunted, tightening the straps on his chest. “I’m fine. Swann’s lance clipped my shoulder. It hurts, but I should be able to make do,” the prince said as he hopped onto Goldy. He rolled his shoulder around, it did hurt, more than he liked to say, and he was sure there would be bruising, but now he didn’t want to worry about that. He could see Loras at the other end of the tilts, his helmet gleaming in the sun as he was ready with his lance in his hand as he stared down at him. Alycilles was ready though. He equipped his stag helmet, and took his shield and his lance, gripping them both greatly. His blood was boiling at this point, and the smug look he could see on Loras’s face wasn’t helping.  
“He looks so confident down there,” Alycilles said. The young Lannister boy chuckled.  
“Well, that could be said about you too cousin. It’ll come down to which one of you is the cockiest,” Tyrek said. The prince gave him a sarcastic laugh, then rode down to the royal box, where his family were sat. Loras joined him as they bowed to the king and queen.  
He looked at his father, the king. He could tell from atop his horse that his father was swelling with wine. He could see it within his face. A proud smirk lining it produced from the red joy his father found.  
His mother graced him with a proud look of her own, always one to act the act of queen in front of a crowd. Her eyes met his, and for the first time in a long time, a face of veneration.  
The faces in the crowd were lifted with excitement. He could see. Each face had their eyes locked onto him, or Loras. His father waved his hand, and the two made their way back to their ends of the tilt. “Just one more bout girl,” Alycilles said as he patted Goldy’s mane.  
Goldy seemed to understand him as she neighed, bobbing her head up a few times. With that he readied himself, as the horn was blown setting the two knights off. The yard was quiet, all except the rumbling of the horses.  
The two knights finally reached each other with a clash of wood as their shields exploded from the clash of their lances. The prince could hear the disappointment of the crowds as he circled the tilt, quickly grabbing the fresh shield Tyrek held out to him. Loras had been given a new shield too, and was quickly rushing down the tilts. Alycilles did the same and met the Knight of Flowers in dramatic fashion. The two knights were heavy with adrenaline as they clashed once more, Loras lance nicking the princes’ shoulder, causing him to lean back to the side and nearly fall off his horse. Alycilles managed to flex his shoulder muscles before the impact, adding some resistance to the force, but his already pained shoulder was made worse with the continuous abuse. The pain caused his own aim with his lance to be off, as he didn’t have an effect on the flower knight at all.  
There were “ooohs,” from the crowds from the prince's near defeat, and that only enticed his fury.  
To be nearly picked off by the Loras was something he was hoping to avoid. Having to face Loras after all the banter they sent back and forth to each other, only for him to lose. He wouldn’t hear the end of it. The prince righted himself as they circled the tilt.  
He stopped once more and took in a breath of air.  
Sweat was dripping down his face and even into his eyes. He could see Loras was the same state. He could feel his shoulder ache and he was having trouble holding his lance up. Raw energy was waning, and so was his patience. The king suddenly stood up before them all, shouting down to his son.  
“Hurry up and finish this before the sun goes down boy.” The prince looked towards his father, his face stoney and determined. He nodded his head and positioned himself. This seems to have struck a chord with the Knight of Flowers, who was kicking at his horse and yelling as it took off.  
Alycilles himself took off on Goldy, racing down the tilts with determination. In his mind he knew this was to be the final run.  
Either him or Loras would be laying in the dirt.  
The attendees knew it as well. They were quiet and at the edge of their seats, only the sound of the horses could be heard. Some people were peering over the railing to get a closer look.  
With swift action, it almost looks like the two passed through each other. Their lances and shields shattered as they came within each other's reach. Gasp went all around, as a body hit the ground hard.  
A golden horse strutted almost proud past a fallen body. The Knight of Flowers was flat on his back gasping for air. The prince himself was almost unseated as he nearly lost the grip of his reins. Alycilles turned Goldy around and looked to the ground with a smile.  
The crowd suddenly surprised him as they burst into cheers, standing to their feet at the finale of the joust. Alycilles hopped down his horse with heavy breath as he approached Loras, who was now leaning up. “That was great Ser Loras. You really proved to be a challenge,” he said as he lent out a hand to the man. Loras seemed hesitant at first, but with a long sigh, he looked up to Alycilles with a smile and took his hand. “I have to admit. I thought I had you forsure, my prince,” Loras said, coming to his feet. The two walked to the front of the royal box to a awaiting king and queen, leading the applause with the clapping of their hands. His father was the first to speak, “Well done, Prince Alycilles. You’ve shown great prowess in the jousting fields, and emerged victorious,” the king said.  
A steward suddenly appeared next to him holding a blue pillow with a blue flower crown resting atop of it. “You may now choose your Queen of Love and Beauty,” Queen Cersei said. The prince took the crown and looked up to his mother. She held her chin up with grace, wanting to present herself well in front of the crowd. His father at least didn’t have wine spilled on his satin doublet, and was looking somewhat proud when he spoke.  
Alycilles began to walk down the dirt road, looking at all the gleeful faces of the ladies that sat in the stands, probably praying to the gods for the prince to choose them.  
He had already decided on his choice before the matches even started. Luckily he ended up victorious in the end.  
His feet found the steps up the royal box and eyed the ladies that surrounded his sister. “Ladies,” he said to them. That elicited a giggled, all looking eager, their eyes practically begging for him. He locked eyes with Margaery, and the maiden gave him an alluring smirk.  
As if reading his mind, she stood up, silent, towering over the sitting ladies and made her way to the open space the prince stood in.  
“May I, my lady?” he asked. She nodded her head, then bent down slightly, the prince placing the blue flower crown delicately atop her head. As she stood up, her cheeks taking on a rosy color, she surprised everyone when she moved closer to the prince and planted a long kiss on his cheek. “Thank you my prince. You honor me greatly,” she said. The commoners and nobles clapped their hands, some of the ladies refraining from doing so, casting glares at Margaery. She took it easily though, the aura she was giving off kept their tongues at bay. Now that the jousting was over, the melee would soon start within an hour, and the prince took the time to rest and get his shoulder looked at.

* * *

“How does your shoulder feel, my prince?” the old maester asked. Alycilles flinched when the septa helping Maester Pycelle smeared the ointment onto his shoulder, even though she did it gently his flesh was still sensitive.  
“It doesn’t hurt as bad as it looks,” Alycilles said. “It appears there are no broken bones, just some bruising,'' Pycelle said. That much was clear to anyone who saw his shoulder.  
“So the boy will still be able to compete?” his father asked.  
“If the prince feels he is up to it,” Maester Pycelle said. They were currently the prince's large tent with most of his family inside as well.  
When Alycilles had left the tourney grounds, he pulled Pycelle aside, asking the bumbling maester for his help. His shoulder injury was obvious to those who had observed the prince, and the way he held his shoulder with his right hand. His mother and father followed him into his tent, which meant his little siblings followed their lead. Now here they were, his two swornshields, Tyrek and Nessi, his father and mother, Tommen and Mycrella, and even Jaime and Lord Stark made an appearance. “Maybe you should sit out the melee Alycilles. You've already proved to be more than a match on horseback. Must you contend in a battle field so soon,” Queen Cersei said to her son.  
The ointment was making his arm numb, and it slightly felt better, but he knew that wouldn’t last. “The boy is fine Cersei. Why would he ruin such a victory streak so soon. Emerging as a true champion in both competitions. Most lords would kill to have a son this worthy,” King Robert roared with laughter. The prince had to admit he agreed with his father. His mother's constant nagging was unwanted now, especially with his temper slowly coming to a chill.  
“There's no way I’m going to let a simple bruise slow me down when I’ve come this far. This is my tourney afterall. I’m the only one deserving of glory,” the prince said.  
His father let out a loud laugh that reverbed across his tent. “You hear that Ned. The boy might be even more cockier than I was at his age,” the stag king said to his old friend.  
As the prince stood, rotating his shoulder, he saw an expression on Lord Stark's face that he’s never seen before. One of pure astonishment and joy that one would reserve for their son. “I’ll admit, you put on a good show out there my prince. You remind me more of your father in his youth when he would ride,” Stark said. “I wish you luck in the melee.”  
“Thank you Lord Stark,” the prince said. Queen Cersei on the other hand wasn’t sharing the same likeness with her husband about her son's continuation in the tourney. “Very well. If you wish to lose your arm then so be it. Don’t say I didn’t warn you though,” she said before taking her leave in a huff. They all watched her leave as the prince was being suited in his armor.  
“The queen is quite protective,” Stark said.  
“Too protective. I was thankful when one of my sons found his way out of her skirt. If only Joffrey was a fighter. Then he could be standing beside you, representing our house against the other lords and their sons,” the king said. “Joffrey wouldn't even attend the archery contest. And he favors arrows more than swords,” the prince said.  
The king simply laughed and left the tent with Lord Stark in tow. His little siblings soon gained his attention, plump little Tommen squalling to his brother. “Alycilles are you really okay. That bruise looks like it really hurts,” the young boy said worryingly. Alycilles smiled. “I’m fine Tommen. I’m stronger than you know,” he said, rubbing the boys golden curls.  
“I knew you would win Allie. Thanks to you, I walked off with quite a bit of gold,” princess Myrcella said with a smile. One of the princes’ eyebrows raised. “Oh, betting on your dear ol brother?” he asked. The princess’s face turned red as she looked down. The prince gently grabbed her chin and raised her face. “Excellent choice,” he said, planting a kiss on her forehead.  
“Where’s Saphira?” he asked her.  
“She was talking to Margaery Tyrell last I saw her,” the red faced princess said. “Hmm. Well I don’t have time to look for her. Think I’ll relax for a while until the melee starts,” he said.  
His uncle Jaime strolled over and handed him a full wine skin. “Here, this should help,” he said. The prince snatched it and drank heavily, hoping it would help with his shoulder pain. His uncle simply smirked,  
“Easy. You still want to be functional. Too drunk and you are an easy target for those out there seeing you stumble.” The prince withdrew the skin from his mouth. “I know how to handle my alcohol. Pretty sure I get that from my father,” the prince said. His tent flap suddenly fluttered, and in walked a silver haired girl, wearing a well sewn red dress.  
He took a quick glance at her, then laid back on his cot, Myrcella and Tommen eyes becoming wide and bright at the appearance of their sister. “Well, the prodigal twin finally makes her appearance,” Alycillles said as she grew closer to them. “Thanks to you, I lost about fifty gold dragons,” the silver princess said. Alycilles snickered, “you should have gone down the route Myrcella took then and bet on me,” he said, side-eyeing her.  
“Ha ha. I would have, but your queen of love and beauty took the option before I could. Then she coerced young Myrcella here to join her,” Saphira said, pinching a giggling Myrcella’s cheeks.  
“Well that explains why her pockets are jingling louder,” Alycilles said. Saphira sat down next to her brother, picking up Tommen and taking his spot. “I knew you would win. Which is why I didn’t bet all my gold,” she said looking down to him, smirking lovingly, her silver brow raising just like he did it.  
“Well now that you explained it, I can rest easy now,” Alycilles as he rested his head on his pillow roll.  
The prince truly felt relaxed as he laid there, but as he thought about the coming melee, his nerves started to get the better of him, and the wine didn’t help.  
He turned his head to Nessi, who, when noticing his gaze towards her, gave him a warm smile.  
“Hey Nessi,” the prince said as he sat up on his cot, “do you have any tips for me when I enter the melee? Your time in the fighting pits must have helped you hone your survival skills,” the prince said. The warrior women nodded her head with a smile as she brought a finger up to her chin.  
“Well, you could always make a few alliances, but those will eventually dissolve once the numbers slim down, or you can bide your time and wait for the numbers to slim down, stay away from more savage opponents, they’ll be taken care of before you encounter them” Nessi said. The prince thought of her words. “Well, I’m not especially close with many people taking part.” The prince contemplated his options and simply smiled as he laid back down. “well, my prince?” Nessi said.  
Alycilles smiled, “I’ll just have to take everyone out,” he said with a wink of his eye. Everyone turned to the prince, some with raised eyebrows as they believed he truly meant that. “Ha, such confidence, nephew. You forget that I'll be competing as well,” Jaime Lannister said.  
“Don’t think i’m going to go easy on you uncle,” the prince said calmly. “Your overconfidence will be your downfall, sweet nephew,” Jaime said. His uncle turned to Tyrek who was sitting in the corner of his tent.  
"Curious. Tyrek. You're not competing?” Jaime asked the boy. Tyrek looked in his direction. “And take all the shine from our famous prince here, nah. Tourneys aren’t really my thing anyways.”  
The kingslayer scratched his chin as he turned his look to Nessi. “And what of you Lady..Nessi?”  
She turned to his uncle, looking him over. “Of Course I’ll be taking part. I have to Protect my prince’s back,” she said protectively, eyeing the man.  
“Glad someone will be,” Uncle Jaime said.  
“Shouldn’t that be your job Kingslayer,” she said, adding a hint of soft ire to her tone. Jaime gave her an awkward look then turned his gaze to Alycilles who was watching the whole exchange. Alycilles spoke up quickly before the two started trading blows.  
“My uncle is usually in his own zone during tourneys, like most men, we seek glory for ourselves. Besides, he knows I can take care of myself. I am the boy who practically ended the last Greyjoy rebellion, so men fear me in my own right,” the prince said, crossing his arms behind his head as he laid back down. His siblings giggled as Jaime smiled smirkingly at him.  
“Speaking of which I should leave to prepare. You seem to be in good hands here,” the man said as he left the prince’s tent. “You scared my uncle off, Nessi,” the prince said. She placed her hands on her hips, “he has no reason to fear me,” she said, rolling her eyes to a chuckling prince.  
After a while Alycilles got up from his cot and decided to stretch his body. His arm was still sore but was manageable in a way.  
He stood in the center of his tent, rotating his body around while his siblings watched him. While he was doing that, Prince Tommen wandered over to his brother's sword, his curiosity bringing him to the thing. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the boy reaching for it. “Woah,” the boy said, trying to lift the thing. Alycilles looked towards his brother who was pulling the sword out its sheath. “Tommen, don’t play with that. It’s not a toy,” he suddenly spoke up. The young prince was spooked, from his brother's sudden voice, and seemed to be sulking as he laid the sword against the wooden table. Alycilles walked over to him, and patted him on the head, “when you're older, I’ll make you your own sword, okay?” he said. The young prince nodded his head, then walked over to the wooden cot, as Alycilles grabbed the blade and looked at it. He unsheathed it, the blade still freshly clean as he could see his reflection eyeing him back within the blade. “Have you given your new toy a name yet,” Saphira asked. Alycilles eyed her as Myrcella giggled at her sister's jest. “Yeah. Scorchbane, is what I’m calling it,” the prince said.


	8. Growing Valor and Destined Fates

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another quick chapter out since I been slow lately.

After taking some time to rest in his tent, Alycilles found himself walking through the tourney grounds, along with Nessi and Tyrek, heading for the melee field. Men all around him were preparing as they exited their tents in full armor, casting glances at the prince as he passed them. He was a fresh face within the melee fields, most of the men around him were experienced, more than he could ever be in the moment.  
It was a warning his mother had given him in one of her attempts to persuade him to rethink his decision. He had to admit her caution did have him a little paranoid. He might be their prince, but that wouldn’t save him from people taking advantage.   
His walking suddenly halted as a figure stood in front of him, breaking his mind away from his thoughts.   
“Well, if it isn’t the little silver prince,” the figure before him said. Alycilles eyed the man, “Greetings, Prince Oberyn. You’ve been quite the illusive person since this tourney started. I was wondering when we’d cross paths,” he said.   
The dornish prince gave him a charming smile. “I decided to finally grace the fields with my appearance for the melee. I heard you were entering so I wouldn’t miss the chance,” Prince Oberyn said. The prince gave a hidden smile, not sure how to respond to this attention.   
“I think it’s about time. Dealing with the squires isn’t going to help me improve my skills,” he said. The dornish prince found this amusing as he let out a jovial chuckle. “Ahh, and you think dealing with the grown men is more of your speed, my prince. Be careful, you don’t want to grow up too fast,” Oberyn said.   
“I won’t get any better if I don’t,” the prince responded with.   
“Well, it seems tourneys in honour of the royal twins bring out the best in warriors. Many will be coming after you to prove themselves,” Oberyn said. Alycilles gave him a smirk as he waved his hand through his hair as he lifted his nose up saying, “ why I’m no one, I don’t see why such special attention is paid towards me,” he said.   
Martell’s nostrils flared. “Why you're the great Avenger, Bane of Greyjoys. Exploits like yours are rare for such a young boy, and tales of you travel far and wide. I’m sure you won’t disappoint your challengers. I look forward to crossing blades with you, if you aren’t killed beforehand,” Oberyn deadpanned, as he eyed the prince, up and down. Alycilles simply gave him a quick smirk then moved past Martell, and headed to the melee fields, his two swornshields, Tyrek and Nessi, close behind him. “What was that about?” Nessi asked him. Alycilles looked at her, noticing how wary she was, then said, “that’s just Oberyn trying to shake me up,” he said.   
“Hmm, he might be a problem. Make sure you stay close to me Allie,” Nessi said to him. To that the prince chuckled.   
“Ever the protective shield,” he said. Many knights were gathered beyond the gates of the melee field, waiting for them to open. When the prince approached, they turned and saw him, a couple offering him some nods. He saw a few familiar faces, his cousin   
Daven, and uncles, Jaime and Renly, with Loras by his side.   
A few reachmen and Baratheon men all bunched together. “So Alycilles. Your first tourney with the real men. How are you feeling?” cousin Daven asked. He looked up slightly to the man. He had yellow hair and a pug nose, with the beginnings of a full beard.   
“How did you feel during your first melee?” he countered. The man scruffed his beard then said, “don’t remember, it was so long ago, but I would have to say, nervous like any would be,” he said. “Well, that's common for taking on new ventures, but I have my nerves in check, so don’t think me too green.” A couple of “ooos” sung out as many found the prince's self acclaimed bravery funny.   
“I hope you don’t get taken out during the first minute Alycilles. Be a shame if we miss the chance to cross swords,” Loras said from across him. The prince scoffed. “I could say the same to you Loras, a famed knight as yourself will have a couple of people on your tail,” Alycilles said.   
To this Loras chuckled and nodded his head. Alycilles placed his stag helm atop his head, and tightened the straps. Nessi did the same, wearing a helmet that covered her whole head, with a lined slit across for her to see, and a dark ponytail of hair tied in the back.  
She wore a full set of armor that was a shade of ebony, which fitted to her body well. Even with the suit of metal on, her curves were defined. Alycilles couldn’t help but stare at her, finding fascination in this warrior woman figure. Even her chest guard was designed to accommodate her breast. Not too large to hinder her mobility, but still made it noticeable that she was a woman.   
Something Nessi especially wanted for her armor, so she could stand out against the men. His attention was brought back forward when the gates to the field began to lift up, and the men in front of him moved under the stands that the watchers sat on.   
One by one they passed under the raised gate, to the cheering of the crowd of nobles and commoners. The loud cheering seems to reverberate through his body. The prince himself exhaled some air loudly, and Nessi looked at him.   
“Don’t be nervous Allie. Keep a clear head, and find your comfort zone. Keep your eyes and body moving,” she said.   
He nodded his antlered head to her advice, thankful she was by his side. The prince was next as he moved forward, passing under the rusty gate to the view of hundreds of eyes on them.   
He and Nessi distanced themselves from their foes, the two watching each other's backs as other alliances were formed with other knights. Alycilles looked around, inspecting all the competitors that surrounded him. They were littered everywhere.   
Knights from all over the realm, nearly a hundred filling the melee field. The two tried to separate themselves from any large groups. He had a feeling most would be after him. To defeat a renowned prince would bring anyone great glory, and would be a blemish on his own name and glory. In his fifteen years he had been faced off against squires, all falling to his blade, and as he got older, so did his challengers. He believed in his own skills with a blade, trusted them to bring him to victory today. His eyes found themselves on the royal box.   
His father sat on a chair made of antlers and wood. The stag throne he called it. Next to him in a similar chair was the queen. His young siblings were cheering loud for him, but he paid them no mind as he kept his focus.   
The air seemed to be still and broke into a chilling wind as the tourney horn blew loud signaling the start of the melee. Screams immediately were shouted from men all around as the song of steel on steel rang throughout the yard.   
Alycilles held his sword up as men raced too and forth around him. Some were already dropping to the ground losing the battle of survival. A few men came for him, and Nessi stood between them, swinging her long sword in a wide arch, knocking the very swords from their hands. She pointed the tip of her blade to them, and they ran away quickly. The prince looked away from them to see another coming straight for them.   
Before Nessi could encounter them, Alycilles twirled his sword, and blocked the man's strike, clashing blades as he pulled back Scorchbane then kicked the man in the chest. He stumbled backwards but kept his balance. He rushed for the prince again, aiming at the prince's chest with a thrust. Alycilles' side stepped, twirling on his heel, then slashed down the man's back. He shrieked out in pain as he fell to the ground and crawled away. The prince looked at him, but was quickly brought out of his brief joy as other men rushed for him.   
Three different knights decided to attack together, using a form of off brand on the go teamwork. They swung wildly, and randomly, no form of coordination between them. The prince recalled the training his mentor instilled in him, and kept his feet moving, eyes trained on all three foes. He dodged one attack, rotating his shoulders to the side, as another swing came his way. He knocked away one sword from him, and swung his own across the man's plated armor.   
The man hopped away from him, only for another to take his place. Alycilles swatted away the man's sword each time he swung it, his eyes glancing away to his side as he twirled away from a spear.   
He kicked the spear to the ground, and used his other foot to break the wooden pole.   
The man who held it simply looked at the broken stick before the prince kicked him to the ground.   
He was straying further away from Nessi, and tried to regroup with her, but was encountered with the same three knights from before. They rushed him again together this time, moving at him fast.   
Eager fools. Can’t even take turns, he thought.   
He stopped moving, and brought his sword up to his side. One sword came for him and he parried, slashing the man's gut. The leather armor barely held protection and the man keeled over. Grabbing the man's dropped sword, with now two in hand, he was blocking two different swords all at once.   
The two men made a mistake that the prince took advantage of, using both swords in hand and slashed the two men away from him with enough force that they were sent flying sideways. Cheers grew louder as Alycilles could hear people shouting his name.   
The men he just cut down were groveling on the ground, clutching their fresh wounds.   
He didn’t let it distract him as he grouped back up with Nessi. He stood to her back as they circled around the field. She looked to be in top form, breathing slightly. He himself was still full of energy, and his nervousness was gone as he felt himself taking control of things. He looked around the field, and saw a spectacle of chaos. A man with a flaming green sword was running around, swinging it around as smoke filled the air. Garlan and Loras were together, fending off all that confronted them. He hoped someone dealt with that animal soon, but he doubted that would happen. The Mountain was leaving a trail of blood as he was slicing men in two with a sword as long as himself. The mountain would probably last through the whole tourney. “Heads up,” Nessi said from her spot.   
Alycilles looked towards her direction and saw a few men hesitantly coming their way. He prepared himself, eyeing them down, his glare just daring one of them to step forward. When none of them did, the prince took the initiative, feeling his blood rile up.   
He went for the closest guy, acting as if he was going for the attack, and as the man held his shield up, Alycilles quickly changed his target, catching a man in Frey armor off guard as the prince slashed upwards against the man's chest. He fell to the ground screaming in pain.   
A man took the chance to attack the prince, but was quickly knocked away by Nessi. She proved to be a well suited sworn shield as no one managed to reach the prince, even when he took the chance to swing at the opposition.   
Each time a different knight would try the prince and swing their sword at him, Nessi would parry them and receive curses thrown at her, to which she would laugh. The prince found it amusing, looking towards the women as she knocked men to the ground, so distracted that he didn’t see the shield that came towards his helm. The shield smacked against his stag helm, knocking it sideways as the prince jumped away from his attacker.   
He let out a surprise yelp, being startled by the sudden bang to his head. He turned his stag helm back around, the thing covering half of his face as he was able to see the man who attacked him. It was the same dornishmen who accompanied Oberyn. “You again, the prince stated. He knew the man only as Oberyn’s former squire. He had a run in with this man a few times, when he visited Dorne some time back, and their interactions weren’t on a friendly basis.   
“Surprise you haven't soiled yourself and waddled to your mother's skirt, Baratheon. A little boy like you should be playing in the gardens. Let the real men compete in the tourneys,” the man said. Alycilles scoff.   
“You must mistake me for some other prince, bastard,” Alycilles said. The man clenched his teeth, visibly seething with anger. The prince tilted his head slightly as the mane of his helmet flowed with the wind. “Oh I'm sorry. Did I strike a nerve there? Did I hurt the bastard of God Graces' feelings?” he said with a smirk. The Bastard of God’s Grace spat on the ground, then twirled his spear around. “I don’t see what Arianne sees in you,” Daemon Sand said. Alycilles took on a defensive stance. “You're about to find out,” the prince said.   
The dornishmen jump slightly forward, lunging his spear at the prince. It was a simple thrust that Alycilles dodged easily. Daemon was testing him, trying out the prince, seeing how he would respond. Daemon brought the spear back to himself, twirling the thing around his body. Alycilles watched the spear instead of the man himself. Daemon kicked the spear with the front of his boot, sending the head flying upwards towards the prince. Alycilles stepped back, avoiding the thing from just barely scraping his chin. I wonder if it’s laced with poison.   
He had to keep his distance, but get close enough to deal some damage. He was getting irritated at his lack of progress.   
The bastard of Dorne was fast and light in his leather armor and the prince was proving to be slow in his own. He decided to distance himself away from the man. Time to drop some weight. He stuck his sword in the ground as Daemon watched him.   
Alycilles lifted his hands to his shoulder, unhooking the lock then pulled off his lion shoulder pads and vambraces as they fell to the sandy ground. He also released the leg skirt plating that surrounded his waist. He felt lighter, and his legs felt more mobile.   
All that was left was his helm. He unhooked his stag helm, and quickly threw the thing at Daemon Sand, eliciting ohhs, but the prince didn’t bear it any mind. The quick distraction worked as he rushed the man, moving faster than before. Alycilles went for a slash, but Daemon recovered quickly, bringing the pole of his to his defense as it met the prince's steel. His sword bounced off the metal pole, but the prince was quickly moving, managing to get behind Daemon. Daemon spun his spear around his neck, like a top, thinking he would catch the prince with surprise, but it didn’t work as the prince ducked his head, and thrusted his sword in between the man's legs, slicing flesh, causing Daemon to drop to one knee. He looked up to the prince with gritted teeth, and the prince responded back to him with a wide smile. 

Sansa watched as the melee went on, as men were cut down and butchered all around. The melee started with a large number of men, and slowly grew smaller as some dropped to the ground unmoving, or others were dragged out of the ring. Sansa couldn’t help but keep her eyes trained on the prince. He was doing well so far, the young Stark girl being captivated by Alycilles since he slain his first adversary.   
Many different knights confronted him, looking to gain some form of glory for themselves by taking on the silver prince. Sansa’s heart would beat rapidly each time she saw the prince engaged to such knights, and she would silently let out a sigh when the prince won his bout.   
None would gain the glory they seeked as the prince overwhelmed them after their struggle. He moved differently than the others. Having more fluidity to his movements. He stood out from the rest, moving his sword in ways that made him look like he was dancing.   
Next to her she could hear Arya cheering loudly for the prince. “Go Alycilles,” she would say, but the princes’s attention stayed focused on those around him. “He’s really talented with a sword, don’t you think?” Arya asked her sister. Sansa turned to her and smiled.   
“Yes, he's very good. No one’s touched him yet,” Sansa replied back with. Arya looked back to the field. “I bet he trains everyday,” she said. Suddenly to their side, Princess Saphira spoke, “it’s not that he just trains,” her soft voice said. The two stark girls turned their heads towards the princess, who was sitting on her high chair with elegance. “What do you mean?” Arya asked loudly. The princess smiled down at her, amused by the little girl. “He trains, yes, but he focuses on how he moves as well. Watch him. He doesn’t just swing wildly. He plans every move he makes accordingly, and develops counters for his foes on the fly,” Saphira said.   
Both Stark girls turned back to the field and watched the prince. “He does move...oddly,” Sansa said. Princess Myrcella, who was listening to the two of them, looked down at her sisters wandering eyes. “Do you think Alycilles is going to win?” she asked her sister. Saphira gave the young princess an assuring smile, “Of Course he’s going to win little sister. Has alycilles ever disappointed you.”   
The young blonde shook her head, “no,” she responded in an excited tone. “I admire your dedication to your brother princess, but he’ll have his hands full with Daemon,” Princess Arianne said.   
The Baratheon princess looked upon her Dornish counterpart with blazing eyes as she gave her a snide smirk. “Well ladies, it looks like Princess Arianne has some input,” Saphira said. With this small attestation the ladies all turned their attention to this engagement. Saphira’s Lannister cousins also turned their view to her. Sansa looked at the girl Saphira called princess. The tan skinned beauty that Sansa now knows to be Princess Arianne Martell of Dorne.   
“What do you mean?” Myrcella asked her. The dornish princess looked at the small girl. “That man he is facing is Daemon Sand, a renown knight back in Dorne. He’ll be quite the challenge for the prince.” Princess Myrcella looked at the girl, blinking her eyes as if that was supposed to mean something special.   
“Well my brother was the youngest knight ever and is renowned himself,” the young princess remarked. This brought a couple snickers and laughs from around the surrounding ladies. “Well, she’s got you there Arianne,” Saphira said. The dornish princess   
simply smirked as she looked back onto the field. The two Lannister sisters, Cerenna and Myrielle were whispering close to each other as Sansa took in everything that just happened. Arianne’s face was unreadable, but the smirk she gave across her face revealed a hint of emotion. As the two princesses stared each other down, the Highgarden maid tried to quell these embers before it caught aflame.   
“I’m sure the both of them will give it their all. Now, let's enjoy the show before us,” Margeary said. This seemed to set everyone at ease as they all focused on the melee. Sansa did the same as all conversations were halted, her excitement and shock and the subtle insults they were throwing at each other, but they always kept their friendly smiles aimed at one another. Is this how the ladies of court are like, she thought.   
She turned her eyes back to see the bastard, Daemon Sand gripping his spear with the head pointed towards the ground. He motioned himself into a stance spreading his feet through the dirt. The prince was now wielding two swords, his focus on the man before him. 

The fight between Daemon was proving to be a challenge as the prince lost focus of those around him. Nessi was keeping to his back, shoving off anyone who got too close to him. He had to keep his eye focused on the man before him, or else it’ll be his head. Without even exchanging words, the two knights moved into battle. Daemon Sand thrusted his spear near the prince’s shoulder, but Alycilles swatted the spear away with his shortsword, making an opening for himself as he thrusted his longsword forward, slicing Daemon’s own shoulder. The caused the man to stumble, bringing that ghastly spear to his side for protection, but that didn’t work. Alycilles crossed his legs into Daemons, kicking one of his legs from under him. Daemon tried to regain his balance, but Alycilles' shoulder rushed him and sent the bastard to the ground.   
Cheers came out, clearly towards the prince as Daemon quickly got up to his feet. Daemon gritted his teeth, baring them to the prince. Daemon began to wildly thrust his spear, in no fashion, but the prince was able to predict his movements. The power he was putting into his force was enough to rip through Alycille’s own chest easily. He wondered if the chainmail Stark gifted him would protect him.   
That was something he didn’t want to find out.   
As Daemon thrusted his lance he failed to notice the speed of the prince, as he evaded moving his body out the way faster than Daemon could see. Daemon left himself vulnerable with his last attack, extending too far and no room to recover. Alycilles threw away his shortsword, and grabbed ahold of Daemon’s spear. He yanked it but Daemon had a strong grip not relinquishing the spear as Alycilles pulled it towards himself.   
The two did a little of a tug of war with the spear, and as Alcyilles pulled once more, bringing Daemon too close to him. Alycilles lifted his knee hard into Daemon’s gut, knocking the wind out of him. His grip loosened allowing Alycilles to pull the spear away from him, twisting around as he hit the bastard on the back of his head. Daemon stumbled forward, but the prince quickly circled on him, slicing at his ankles. He once more dropped to the ground, snarling at the prince. Alycilles rushed him shouting, “you fought well.”   
Daemon reached for something towards his boot. A hidden dagger, he thought. He prepared himself for what he thought was a dagger, but quickly learned he was wrong.   
Daemon had grabbed a handful of sand, ironically, and threw it in the prince's eyes. The sand stung his eyes as he reeled away from Daemon. He rubbed his eyes as boos rang throughout the stands in displeasure. “Cheating scum,” could be heard as   
Daemon snickered at the antagonizing crowd. The prince was still trying to rub his eyes clear of the sand, his vision slowly returning. He could hear the quick pattering of feet against the ground. He knew Daemon would soon be on him. He held his eyes open, even as they stung and watered and saw a figure approach. The dornishmen was left with only a dagger as his spear was nowhere near him. Alycilles calmed himself as Daemon swung his dagger around, while Alycilles made uncertain dodges as he swayed away from the blade.   
His vision recovered to an agreeable state that he was able to counter the bastards movements. He grabbed the man's wrist, twisting it as the dagger fell from his grip. He then backhanded Daemon, making contact with his jaw with his golden gauntlet.   
Daemon reeled back but the prince was still gripping his wrist, keeping the bastard close to him. He was mad now, and offered the man no mercy as he pulled him back and delivered another blow to his face. The prince grew more aggressive with his punches, tired of dealing with the man.   
Daemon had long since lost his leather helm, his shaggy black hair swaying back and forth as the prince continued his assault. Blood and a couple of teeth came flying out the man's mouth as he grew limp. Alycilles finally released the man's wrist, but he didn’t allow the man any chance to recover. He delivered one last punch to the bastard of Godgraces stomach, knocking the air from his lungs. Daemon fell to his knees, both his arms wrapped around his stomach as he gasped for air. Cheers of the crowd erupted in honor of the prince’s near defeat of the dornishmen.   
He relaxed himself for a second, taking it all in as the excitement took over him. He looked around him to see some men had stopped to watch his fight. Nessi was combating Oberyn who had been trying to make it to Daemon’s side, but Nessi proved to be more than a match for him, as she overwhelmed the man. He smiled to himself as she watched Oberyn struggle to defend himself against the warrior women. He looked to the royal box and saw little Myrcella Tommen, and the ladies of court cheering for him he assumed. Seeing them renewed him with a surge of energy.   
He then heard Daemon steady his breath, his shaking stopping as he attempted to stand on his feet. Just as the bastard was about to regain his stance, Alycilles stopped him, by placing his foot atop of the man's head and resting his arm on his own knee. The dornishmen tried to lift his head up, but Alycilles strengthened his force atop his head. “Stay down bastard,” the prince said smoothly. Throughout the cheering, some laughter could be heard as well in response to his display. Daemon's anger grew as he furiously pushed the prince's foot off his head but soon found the prince's other boot to his face. The kick was hard, and Daemon hit the ground, and this time he didn’t get up. Alycilles breathed in a huge breath of air as he felt relieved that this long battle was over. You proved to be quite the challenge. I’ll give you that Daemon. He peered around and noticed that the field was mostly empty, with only a small handful of knights left, but there was something at the back of his mind that bothered him. With Nessi dealing with Oberyn, he left his back open. A shadow soon engulfed the prince, shading him from the sun. The cheering of the crowd died down in an instant, and that unnerved him. The hair on the back of his neck stood up, and goosebumps formed all across his arms. Many things ran through his mind, but one thing that made way to the surface was, where was The Mountain.   
He began to slowly creep his head around as he felt a presence behind him. Like a lion cornered by its enemy the prince quickly turned to face whatever had him shook.   
There he was. The Mountain That Rides was standing there before the prince, staring down at the prince with a wicked grin across his bloodied face. Alycilles knew in that second, he had to get away from this beast, but the thought occurred a second too late as The Mountain outstretched his arms around the prince engulfing him in a huge bear hug. The mountain held him close, his arms wrapped around him tightly, provoking the prince to scream loudly. Gasped from all around the stands went out, as the nobles and commoners alike stood in disbelief to what they were witnessing. The squeeze was tight, and beginning to hurt fast. His sword fell from his hand as the pressure began to build up. He tried to flex his arms and push them outwards, but the   
Mountain's strength was far superior from his own.   
The snarling of Clegane and the jeering of the crowd was slowly fading from his ears. Those near the royal box could only watch in horror. The king had stopped drinking from his horn of ale and was intently staring at the two. His son could be heard screaming in pain every so often. The queen herself held her breath while she watched her son. Each scream from his mouth caused her heart to skip a beat. Prince Joffrey was now leaning forward in his seat, eyes wide with a smirk across his face, as he found some interest in the melee. The rest of the Baratheon siblings were up from their seats, Tommen was being held by Myrcella as he whimpered into her dress. The ladies sat in silence, but they all had worry in their eyes. The mountain was known to show no mercy, no matter who the man was. The Mountain was simply toying with the prince, stirring the lion as Alycilles grew angrier. Clegane wore no helmet, most likely lost it throughout the melee. The prince leaned his head as far back as he was able, and brought it forward onto Clegane's face, delivering him the hardest head butt he could muster. The Mountain seemed to not be fazed as he simply grinned at the prince. Alycilles himself looked stunned with wide eyes, but he figured as much. What kind of monster is this guy, he thought. His heart skipped a beat when he saw The Mountain lean his own head back, to which the prince braced himself for what was coming next. Gregor squeezed the prince again as he brought his face onto his, hard, the prince feeling his nose pop. it was quite the scene as everyone watched on. The Mountain wasn't letting off, but something he wasn’t expecting was soon to happen.   
Out of the corner of his eye, Alycilles saw a sight he wasn’t expecting. The Knight of Flowers, his cape flowing in the air and his silver armor glistening as he rushed for Gregor’s backside. The Mountain must have heard him as he turned his head to see what the commotion was. The man loosened his grip on the prince, reacting in a way a wild animal would when attacking a prey. He released one of his arms from around Alycilles, and swung it at Ser Loras. The Knight of Flowers ducked the man's punch, skidding through the dirt while also taking his sword to one of The Mountain’s heels. The mountain staggered alittle, and the prince found one of his arms freed from the giant's clutches. He reeled his free arm back, and punched Gregors face with as much force he could muster in his condition.   
It seemed to stun the giant as Alycilles fell to the ground, distancing himself from his captor. His legs were weaker then he thought as he nearly fell to the ground, but caught himself on one of his knees. He inhaled greatly, sucking in lungs as he coughed hard. His nose felt like it was broken, and when he felt it, it stung with a touch. He gripped it and it felt uneven so he turned it hard and it popped again. He gritted his teeth as he held in a yell. He looked around him. There were only five people left on the field. Nessi was still dealing with Oberyn, while the prince was staring down The Mountain, who now had his attention towards Loras.   
The prince looked to Loras who had quickly looked at him, then back to Gregor. Alycilles saw his sword half buried in the sand near Gregor. Loras started to distract The Mountain as Alycilles crept up behind him, slowly, as to not alert the animal. He was unarmed, and that's one thing you don’t want to be in a melee. The yard had grown quiet ever since the prince had escaped from Gregor's arms, and most of them were watching with bated breaths. Each time the Mountain took a step towards Loras, and away from his sword, the prince took one step closer to his Scorchbane. Loras was doing his best to distract The Mountain, but in his assault, Gregor seemed to remember his other opponent and quickly turned to face the prince, but Alycilles had soon reached his sword, pulling it from the ground along with some sand, and was moving into the attack. Loras took the time to do the same, the two attacking Gregor simultaneously, as the beast didn’t know who to strike.   
Alycilles went for the man's chest, delivering a quick slice, while Loras went for his legs. The steel armor The Mountain wore offered him the best protection armor could give, but the two young knights were hacking it away like a sword against tree bark.   
Eventually, pieces would begin to chip apart, leaving the man vulnerable, but this was making Gregor angry. He swung his sword all around his body like a madman, not even aiming, just trying his luck, and failing. The Silver Prince and Knight Of Flowers retreated, finding themselves side by side with one another. “Thank you Loras. I owe you one, I guess,” half sarcastically with a smile. Loras looked at him, “don’t worry about it,” he said. “Now, you ready to crumble a mountain?” the prince asked him. “And do you have a plan on doing that?” Loras asked back. The prince simply turned to him and smirked. 

“So how does that sound?” Prince Alycilles asked. Loras shook his head, not really liking the sound of this plan. “Well, there's nothing much we can really do. I doubt we could actually kill him,” Loras said. “That's why if we go with my plan, we can put him down without trying to do the impossible,” Alycilles said.   
“Very well. I’ll engage him first and give you your opening. This guy might be an animal, but he still has a mind, and won’t be fooled twice, so make it count,” Loras said.   
“One is all I need,” the prince said. The Mountain in his impatience, was not looking to wait any longer. He began to march for them, his sword rising into the air with each step. Alycilles and Loras separated from each other, running on each side of Gregor, making it harder for him to target one of them. The Mountain turned to the prince, ignoring Loras, as he swung his sword at him, all the while the prince dodged each swing. “STAND STILL,” Gregor shouted. Alcyilles simply smirked at the man, taunting him with his expression.   
“What's wrong Clegane, I thought you were good at cleaving men in two,” Alycilles taunted out. The Mountain didn’t speak but simply grimaced and grunted with each swing, unaware of the prowling rose. The prince kept toying with him, just managing to dodge the greatsword by a hair's inch, drawing out gasp from the crowd. When the prince would duck his head from Cleganes swing, the crowd would sound out in oooooos.   
The prince looked like he was enjoying himself, having a smile across his face growing wider and wider the more Gregor failed to strike him. Ser Loras had finally sprung into action, lashing his sword at Gregor’s legs once more, causing the man to finally give him attention.   
Like a wild animal with only one instinct, he began an onslaught of attacks on Loras. Tyrell was parrying the strikes easily, and returning with his own. Loras was a splendid fighter himself, moving with a mission.   
The Knight of Flowers jumped to the side, his cape hiding the lurking lion behind its waves. The Mountain found himself in a surprise attack as Prince Alycilles appeared suddenly, giving The Mountain some quick jabs with his longsword hitting all the weak joints in Clegane’s armor. The Mountain actually took a few steps back, the force of the prince's blows seeming to have an effect on the man. Alycilles laughed, to which Gregor sneered and lifted his sword up high, the sun shining on the cold steel, and brought it down hard looking to spit the prince in half. The prince easily dodged the blow by swiveling on his heel as the sword became one with the earth. The Mountains greatsword seemed to be stuck in the ground as he struggled to set it free. Alycilles looked to Loras, their eyes telling more than words could.   
They rushed the mountain, not giving him a chance to recover. Clegane lifted his head and was surprised to see Loras, running up the end of his sword. Loras brought his foot to Gregors face, his metal boot crunching on the man's face. The kick sent the man reeling back, his already damaged heels giving way. Ser Loras knelt down, going to one knee as Alycilles jumped atop of Loras shoulder, thankful he was firm and didn’t tip over as he made his leap. He was putting his plan into action, knowing that killing   
The mountain was something he couldn’t pull off, but putting the man to sleep was doable. That's why the prince dropped his sword, and picked up a metal helmet that was resting on the ground. The thing had a little weight to it, but Alycilles gripped it easily. He found himself looking straight into Gregors eye’s, his momentum carrying him fast. His arm reeled back, gripping the metal helm hard enough that he felt the steel pinch his hand. With that he brought it down on The mountains head hard with a clang that rang loud throughout the ring. The mountain fell, and Alycilles followed him, rolling over the giant's body as they both hit the ground. The prince went into a roll, getting away from The Mountain in case his plan had failed. He caught himself and saw the giant, lying in the dirt, his frame unmoving and his eyes closed. Alycilles looked on, stunned, his eyes wide as he moved closer to Gregor. The man was truly down, and succumbed to slumber. The prince chuckled to himself that turned into a full laugh. “And stay down bitch,” he shouted out loudly, pointing his thumb to the ground. In his unrestrained placidness his voice was louder than he expected, as cheers erupted from the stands all around him, the prince looking in every direction to a mass of clapping nobles and commoners. Even Loras had a smile across his face as he looked at Alycilles.   
Not many can claim they took down Gregor Clegane, bane of Westeros. Alycilles looked towards the ground, his eyes being shadowed by his bangs. The knight of flowers began to walk towards the prince as he reached down for his sword. The smile across his face slowly faded as the prince gripped his sword harder.   
Quickly the prince pointed Scorchbane directly at his chest. Loras stopped dead in his tracks, eyeing the prince. The cheering of the crowd went dead silent at his act. Alycilles turned his head to see Nessi a few to his side, and Oberyn nowhere to be found.   
She could see in his eyes that his nature had changed from friendly to competitive. She nodded her head, looking down as she took a few steps back. Alycilles than turned his attention back to Loras, who had a curious expression across his face. “And then there were two,” Loras said.   
“There can only be one winner my friend. This bout has been a long time coming,” Alycilles spoke, his tone serious. He became a whole new being to the challenge in front of him. He couldn’t let the relishment of defeating The Mountain cause him to lower his guard.   
Loras snickered, “right, cause it's all been leading to this, right.” The prince swiftly lowered his sword away from Loras, “gather your armaments', Knight of Flowers. I want you at your best for this fight,” he said. And so he did. Loras went and gathered his shield and sword after disregarding them when he confronted The Mountain. Some men came onto the field and dragged away a sleeping Gregor, the huge ox needing five to drag his still form away from the ring. Alycilles and Loras stood face to face, eyeing each other off. The both of them were nearly at their limits, still breathing hard with sweat running down their faces. Alycilles shifted into his stance, bringing his sword up in front of him. He rested his left arm around to his back, and stood firm. Loras took off his helmet and threw it to the side. “Ready when you are, Baratheon,” he said as he brought his shield up. They stood still for a few minutes that felt like ages, the two gauging each other's skill. Loras decided to make the first move, rushing the prince with a forward swing. Alycilles spun on his heel, easily moving out the way.   
Loras tried to knock into the prince's shoulder with his shield, actually managing to connect but the blow wasn’t too hard. Alycilles leaped away, gaining some distance. He didn’t have a shield himself and was left with a free hand. He hopped on the balls of his feet and rushed Ser Loras, giving him a few quick jabs with the point of Scorchbane. They struck Loras’ shield as the man was being pushed back. Just as he was about to deliver another jab, Loras swatted the prince away, and tried for his own swing. The prince was quick in his recovery, bringing his sword up to clash with Loras.   
The two exchanged blows, their swords ringing throughout the ring, each swing looking to connect with the other only to be blocked or parried. The Knight of Flowers was fast in his own respect, easily moving swiftly like a ribbon blowing in the wind. Alycilles couldn’t find any openings that he could exploit. Damn, he's gotten better.   
He tried to distance himself but Loras was fast to close the gap, fighting more aggressive than before. One swing here, and a quick dodge there, the two were exchanging strikes and blows. Each coming close to one another, without dealing a blow that secured their victory. Loras jumped away from the prince, stabbing his sword into the ground, and kicking up a spear from the ground, into the air, catching it and quickly delivering quick jabs to the prince. That surprised Alycilles, as he let out a gasp, moving left and right, away from the spear. The Knight of Flowers seemed to have the prince on edge with his spear, until the prince grabbed the thing, and split it with his own sword. Loras quickly threw the busted thing away and grabbed his sword, continuing their dance. In an act that the two copied, their blades clashed and bounced back from the force. The two did it again and again, the cry of their swords piercing the air as they were like a blur as the speed of their swings looked unreal. The next clash caused them to lock blades, engaging in a game of strength, the two pushing each other back and forth, their two blades gliding down their lengths.   
The prince was grunting loudly, his face turning red, his grip hard as he tried to overcome the knight. Loras was in the same situation, his teeth gritting so hard the prince thought he would chip them. The combined weight of Loras armor was added to his force as the prince was forced to take a few hard steps backwards to keep his firm hold. In an instant, Loras drew his sword down, the prince's own blade sliding down its length nearly causing him to fall over. Loras was quick to make his next move, kicking the prince in his armored gut, Alycilles nearly falling backwards. In the moment he took to regain his footing, Loras kept gaining on him, taking swings that forced the prince to keep backtracking, his vision blind to the buried helmet that lined his pathway.   
His heel hit the helmet hard, entangling it within its metal grasp, tripping the prince in surprise as he was unable to keep his balance. Gasp rang out as Alycilles fell backwards, his arms flailing about as Loras rushed him fast, seeing this as his chance. Time seemed to slow for him, his heart beating fast as he saw the Knight of Flowers reaching to pin him. He didn’t know where the thought came from, but the action came to him on a whim. Alycilles quickly dropped his sword, using the falling momentum he had to flip his body, his legs flying skyward towards a shocked Loras. In a single motion, the prince was able to connect the tip of his boot to loras chin, sending the boy flying back, and also landed on the palms of his hand in a perfect handstand. Loras had wailed out in a cry of pain, but was left with no time to recover himself as the prince quickly rolled through the dirt, and found himself atop of Loras, stripping the young knight of his own dagger as he held it to his neck.   
They stayed like that a few seconds in silence, until Loras declared his surrender, his head falling to the ground with a loud sigh. The prince smiled and stood up to the applause of a cheering crowd. He looked down to Loras and held out his hand, to which he took a hold of and pulled the boy up, smirking at Loras the whole time. “Don’t get too full of a head. You got lucky this time,” Loras said. Alycilles simply kept his smirk as he turned to the royal stands. The cheering died down as the king stood from his stag thorn. Alycilles left Loras’s side and stood in front of the royal box. “I declare the winner of this melee. Alycilles Baratheon,” the king spoke loudly and proudly. Once more cheers and claps were sung out in honor of the prince. He smiled as he saw them all stand for him. His siblings were doing the same, their wide smiles aimed at him respectively. He saw Margaery and Princess Arianne in the front doing the same, along with the ladies near them. And with that the Twins Tourney was finished.

A second feast was being held by the king, especially now in honor of his son since he won the tourney. Some time had passed and Alycilles, having treated his cuts and bruises, and his nose now found himself casually walking. His nose was better than he imagined when he popped it back in place earlier, but his cuts stung occasionally, like bee stings, and the ointment he was using did a poor job to thwart the pain, so he needed something to distract him.   
He was currently strolling through the outer yards with Tyrek and Nessi at his side, the two boys wearing casual doublets of their house colors, while Nessi decided to let her armor rest and was wearing her casual clothes. She wore black tight leathers, and a cream colored shirt that strained against her chest. “That was some melee, definitely better competition than the fighting pits,” she said. Alycilles smiled as he looked at her, “glad you enjoyed it, and thank you Nessi. You really had my back out there,” he said.   
Her face lit up to his words as she grabbed his shoulders, stopping him. He knew what was coming next. She placed a long kiss on his forehead and retreated with a smack, “I wouldn’t be a very effective sworn shield if I didn’t, but that doesn’t mean I’m not always watching your back,” she said softly. Alycilles himself looked to the side as his cheeks grew red. Tyrek simply chuckled, “you two always seem to forget that I’m here too,” he said. “Oh, are you feeling embarrassed cousin,?” Alycilles asked. “Not at all. I'm not the one succumbing to her kisses,” Tyrek said. “If you want a kiss Tyrek, you just have to ask,” Nessi said alluringly with a smile.   
The three made their way from the outer courtyards and were heading straight to the great hall. Not a soul was in sight as they made their way through the Red Keep. the sun was going down, and with it brought the cold. Alycilles had taken to wearing his white lion’s cloak to keep him warm as the sun went down. The walk was short as he sped up his pace. He was within the entrance of the throne room when he saw two familiar figures talking to each other, further away from the great doors. Prince Oberyn of   
Dorne, and his niece, Princess Arianne Martell. They were talking real close, almost at a whisper and abruptly stopped when the prince's footsteps drew their attention. The prince casually smiled as his eyes met the princess’s. “My prince, I’m glad I didn’t miss your arrival, otherwise I wouldn’t be able to say goodbye and congratulate you on your victory,” Arianne said with a smile. “Thank you princess. Our talks with each other always brings me joy. So you two won’t be staying for my victory feast?” he asked, exchanging looks from Arianne to her uncle. “No, sadly we were only staying for the tourney. The sands of Dorne are calling us back,” Oberyn said.   
Alycilles’s expression was somewhat sullen as he looked upon the man, he had a black eye, probably gained from his bout with Nessi. He couldn't help but feel for them. Mostly sad that he couldn't see the princess any longer. “Well, I’m greatly honored that you two came all the way just for me and my sister, especially with the not too good standing with our families, truly. It was nice to see you again, Oberyn,” the prince said as he held out his hand. Oberyn gave the prince a smile of gratitude, looking quite genuine as he gripped the prince's hand firmly and shook it. “And the same goes for you too, Arianne. It was a pleasure, as usual,” he said. The two embraced each other with a hug, the princess pushing her form onto the prince tightly as his arms wrapped around her waist. “It’s too bad we didn’t have a chance to have any fun. It would have been my pleasure,” she whispered sensually into his ear. Her words tingled his ear, and the kiss she planted on his cheek left him blushing.   
They separated from each other, the princess batting her eyelashes at the prince, leaving him tongue tied. Before he could get a word out, Oberyn spoke, “well, we best be on our way. Until next time my prince,” he said.   
Finding his voice, the prince said, “very well,” and watched them as they left the Red Keep being flanked by dornish swords. “Having the Martells here didn’t end in a disaster after all,” Tyrek said.   
“Well, I mediated the peace between our two houses, and I’m in the princess’s good grace. So don’t expect a crisis within our country anytime soon,” Alycilles said. “And if you end up slighting the princess, should I prepare myself to venture off to the next land over,” Tyrek said jokingly.   
“Come. let us enter,” Alycilles said after chuckling to his cousin's words. The doors were open as usual with nobles of all around the prince. The further he grew within the throne room, the quieter it became. He could tell there were eyes set on him.   
He looked around him and even saw Lord Stark and his daughters gazing directly at him with simple smiles stamped across his face. The loud laugh of the king suddenly rumbled throughout the room. He looked onto the man whose voice shook the very room. “About time you’ve arrived. I had every mind to send the gold cloaks after you just to get you here,” King Robert said with a loud laugh. Many within the great hall joined in the laughter, and the prince couldn’t help but feel a little awkward. His attention turned to his uncle Renly who came upon him from the side with opened arms. “Finally our champion graces us with his presence,” Uncle Renly said with jovolation in his voice. He wrapped one arm around his nephews shoulders and spoke to the crowd.   
“Come on folks. Let your champion know your appreciation for him.” The nobles quickly clapped and cheered. Their claps echoed around the hall and he heard many around him shout his name sweetly. The focus was completely on him as he looked around and saw familiar faces all aimed in his direction. One was Margaery who was smiling ear to ear at him. He couldn’t help but smile back smoothly to her. “You truly are something, you know nephew,” he said. The prince looked up to his smiling uncle. His short dark hair was wavy and combed back. To the prince, Renly treated him more like a brother than an uncle. Alycilles looked up to his uncle, being able to confine him on a personal level. It was something he couldn’t do much with his father.   
“Come. your siblings are waiting on you,” Renly said. He looked forward and saw the members of his family at the base of dais, sitting shoulder to shoulder at the table. There was his mother, sitting elegantly with her long golden locks curling around a golden circlet atop her head. Her eyes locked with his for a moment, and even though they were gentle, there was a hidden intimidation beneath them.   
He saw the rest of his siblings, all cheerful except for Joffrey as usual, but Alycilles had learned long ago that Joffrey's feelings were not a factor in his life. Mycrella wore a finely stitched black dress with golden laces. She matched his twin, Saphira who wore a similar dress, but had a silver circlet atop her head. They had a comely look to them that made them stand out as princesses.   
Tommen also was dressed in Baratheon colors, which surprised him since their mother took any opportunity to have them in Lannister garbs. Renly left his side, and made his way over to the Tyrell table, sitting down next to Loras. Alycilles found himself sitting down in between his two sisters, both eagerly watching him. “Took you long, champion. Do you not care for the affections of your guest,” Saphira said. “Oh excuse me. I just spent the last few hours moving around in heavy armor with sweat dripping down my body. Would you rather have me smelling foul in front of all these nobles,” the prince said cheekily. His sister chuckled saying, “point taken.”   
He suddenly heard his younger sister call his name out to his side. He looked and saw the other princess there, staring at him with enchanting green eyes. “Hey Myrcella, did you say something?” he asked her. “Um, I enjoyed watching you in the melee. You’ve fought bravely. Like a true knight,” the young girl said, beaming with high esteem.   
“Oh. thank you Cella. I’m glad I could entertain you guys. Knowing you all were watching me was all the motivation I needed,” he said, planting a kiss on her forehead. The young princess blushed as usual, her cheeks turning red as she played with a strand of her golden locks. The feast had begun to continue as food was laid out for them all around. Funnily enough to Alycilles he wasn't particularly hungry. “Won’t you eat, Allie?” Saphira asked him. “Actually, I don’t really have a appetite at the moment,” he said. ‘Oh, is that so,” his kingly father suddenly said from behind them. The siblings turned their heads behind them to see King Robert walking down from his iron throne. “Father, I’m just not hungry is all,” the prince said.   
“Huh, after that show you gave us I would expect you to have a grown man's appetite,” the king said.   
Alycilles simply shrugged his arms. “Robert, if he isn’t hungry then he isn’t hungry,” Queen Cersei suddenly said. The king turned back to his son, “well then, how about you tell us how you bested the Knight of Flowers then. Don’t you want to hear it Selmy,” the king said. Alycilles watched as the old knight stepped forward. “It was a spectacular match my prince. Especially that move you used at the end. How did you come up with that?” Selmy asked.  
“Yes, I want to hear that as well,” Loras suddenly chirped up. The prince looked to Loras and all the eyes that turned to him.   
He noticed his uncle walking towards him as well, taking interest in how he bested Highgarden’s prized flower. “Yes nephew, I’m sure this will be a story Tyrion will enjoy,” Jaime said. He looked out to the emblazoned crowd of nobles. Alycilles sighed with a smirk across his face and stood from his seat. “We’ll for one the night of flowers' reputation proceed to him.   
He was a true challenge. He had me on my heels through the whole match, but for that move I used on him at the end. It just came to me in the moment, nothing special really,” Alycilles said, catching the mirthful smirk Loras flashed him. “Really. Quite the move to come up with on the spot,” Jaime said. “Well, Loras actually had me fleeing which resulted in my foot getting caught in the helmet, and the idea just came to be in the moment,” the prince said happily when a snicker escaping his sister's lips caught his attention.   
“Catch your jest?” he asked her. Princess Saphira's lips were curled upwards, her lips tight as she held back her chuckle as she locked eyes with her brother. She cleared her throat before speaking, “you say it as if Loras did the impossible,” the princess said.   
This brought some laughter around them, even the king finding this amusing. “She’s got you there boy. Saphira’s always been quick with her tongue. Must get that from her mother,” King Robert said.   
“Either way, you showed the force of a true Bratheon out there” King Robert bellowed after taking a swing of wine from his horned mug. “Thank the gods, otherwise I would have lost quite the bit of gold,” Littlefinger said from the side, his whiskers curling as his sly smile met the prince. “Betting on me as usual Lord Baelish?” the prince questioned him.   
Petyr Baelish's smile never left his face. “When the steer leads you to water every time. It’s best you let him do what he does best, for you will never die of thirst,” Baelish said, raising a mug towards the prince. This had him thinking as a single eyebrow raised at the man. A snicker from Prince Joffrey sounded out from down the table. Alycilles looked over and saw his brother trying to stifle his laughter but failing. “It appears some of my siblings think of me as a jester tonight,” the prince said eyeing Joffrey.   
“Oh please. You all impress too easily,” Joffrey said as all eyes turned to him. “Oh,” Jaime simply said, scratching his chin. Prince Alycilles’ demeanor changed as he turned towards his brother, his cool smile leaving his face.  
“Oh, and you think you can do better,” Alycilles said with fake intrigue. The two stared at each other, Joffrey locking his hands together as he leaned back in his chair. “If you are really that good, you would have beaten him much sooner, instead of letting him push you back that much.” The prince was slightly stunned. “Oh brother, I didn’t know you thought of me so highly, but you underestimate the Knight of Flowers. Though someone like you who has never participated in a true fight between skilled warriors, it isn’t your place to place judgement,” Alycilles said, his voice turning cold with each word. He hadn’t noticed but it grew quite quiet within the throne room. It was obvious to everyone that the tension the brothers are known for was stirring up this very moment.  
Joffrey scoffed, “ you think very highly of yourself. Are you sure it was the helmet that tripped you, or your ego,” Joffrey said. Soft oooohs, failed to stay silent within the large room. Alycilles tried to hide his emotions, but he was unknowingly gritting his teeth as Joffrey was pushing his nerves. He was about to retort, opening his mouth but finding his mother replacing his voice instead. “Alright, settle down you two. This is a celebration, not a place for a squabble,” she said, but Alycilles ignored her and kept his attention on Joffrey. “You speak as if you are a warrior yourself brother. Funny, I’ve never seen you in the training yards,” Alycilles said.   
Joffrey scoffed as he stood from his chair fiercely, his eyebrows crossing in annoyance. “I have no need to train in any yard. When I become king, I'll have the likes of the kingsguard to do my fighting,” he looked Alycilles up and down, “even you will have to fight for me,” the young prince finished with a sinister grin across his face. The queen refrained from interfering, as did everyone in the room. King Robert took long sips from his mug and would occasionally laugh throughout the brothers back and forth.   
Young Tommen and Myrcella both looked uncomfortable, the two glancing from their elder brother Joffrey, to Alycilles with wary eyes. “Well, nothing else to say,” Joffrey stated more than asked.   
Alycilles was racing through his mind, eyes all around him making him nervous as he felt his body grow hot. He felt his fist curl, and was going to confront his brother, until he heard a chair skid backwards sound out. “Alright enough. How about you guys save it for another day. It has always been the same with you two since we were kids, and frankly, I’m in no mood right now,” Saphira said loudly. The two brothers were silent until Saphria moved to stand in between them, her hands on her hips as she did so. It seemed everyone in the throne room were shocked at her display, Alycilles most of all. “Well Joffrey. Will you give it a rest?” she asked. Joffrey sneered at her. “And why would I listen to you?” the crown prince said. Saphira brushed a few strands of hair from the front of her face. “Dear brother, you remember when we used to sneak out and explore the red keep as kids, and you got so scared, you…” she had begun to say until Joffrey held up a single hand. “Alright fine,” he said as he sat back down in his chair with his face a shade of red from embarrassment. The princess then turned around to face Alycilles, “well,” she said. His sister stood there, identical eyes staring back at the prince’s own. He didn’t feel like arguing with her, so he let sigh escape his mouth and rolled his eyes, taking his place back in his seat. The princess clasped her hands together and smiled. “Good boys,” she said. She returned to her own seat as well along with Queen Cersei who had calmed down and relaxed. The king began to laugh after their antics were finished. “Maybe I should give the crown to her, given how she tamed you two,” King Robert said with a laugh. The rest of the nobles laughed as well, but Alycilles was not amused. He looked across his table, to all the laughing nobles. The Starks were looking sorrowful, the oldest Stark daughter, face red of shock, while Arya joined in the laughter. He shifted his eyes to a smiling Margeary Tyrell, smirking at the prince with wonder in her eyes. The prince in the moment felt like he needed a drink. 

The prince’s night was turning into a trial to test his patience, so he decided to get some fresh air to cool him down...along with some wine. In his escape he found himself being followed by a couple of his peers along the way. Tyrek was with him, along with his sister and Margaery Tyrell, her brother and some of the ladies of court, Myrielle, Cerenna, Joy, and Margaery's cousin, Elinor. It had turned into a gathering of old friends recollecting on the past and the tourney.  
Alycilles had managed to sneak off with a whole jug of Arbor Gold wine that he and his friends were now sipping on. They found themselves together in one of the courtyards that surrounded the Red Keep, away from the lords and ladys they called parents. The night air was cold, but the wine was keeping them warm as they passed it back and forth between each other. The girls were doing their best to hold their own with the boys, this being the most they drank in one sitting with wine that wasn’t watered down.   
His two cousins, Myrielle and Cerenna tried to act like they could handle their drunkenness, but every so often Alycilles would catch them sending him glances. Elinor was the same, using the courage the wine gave her to speak words to the prince. “So ser champion, how are you feeling?” the fair maid of Highgarden asked next to him.   
They were seated on a pair of benches that surrounded each other, each taking sips of the Arbor gold. “Well, as of right now a little wobbly to be honest,” he said to her. “Oh, is someone unable to hold their wine,” she said to him.   
“Ha, says the one who’s been taking baby sips this whole time,” he retorted with, eliciting giggles from the others. To that she held the wine jug to her mouth and drew a long sip as the wine worked down her throat. The prince simply watched her with admiration until the girl stopped herself, then sucked her lips. “So, it seems you know how to have some fun through that etiquette armor you ladies wear,” the prince said. She giggled, her eyelids looking heavy as she moved closer to him. “Ofcourse I know how to have fun, my princeling,” she said smoothly.   
The prince took the jug from her and downed the wine himself, drinking more than Margaery did, not wanting to be outclassed by her. “This is some strong stuff Alycilles. Where did you get this from?” his cousin, Myrielle asked. “I borrowed it from my fathers wine cellar. The man has his own supply down in the kitchens that he keeps hidden away from mother,” Alcyilles said. “Oh, and he won’t mind that you took it. This is very expensive stuff,” Loras said. Alcyilles scoffed. “Please. The man spends tons of gold in his lavish lifetime. And exquisite wines are at the top of the list.”   
“well, if it’s on you sweet cousin, then I don’t mind,” Cerenna said as she took the wine jar from him and took a swig. “I have to say, you and Loras were a spectacle out there during the tourney. Especially when you two took on The Mountain,” Joy said with surprise. “Yes. If I’m being honest, I was worried for you two during the whole thing. What were your thoughts during the whole thing?” Elinor asked as she looked at Alycilles and Loras. Loras and Alycilles looked at each other, the two both red faced and full of wine.   
“Well, The Mountain isn’t your average knight. Many wouldn’t face him head on,” Loras said.   
“But we aren’t your average knights, are we Loras. People let their fear of things hold them back, which is why they never progress. We faced The Mountain head on and didn’t hesitate to do what needed to be done. Nobody is invincible, not even a monster,” Alycilles said with utmost confidence.   
He knew it was the wine that was making him talk this way, but he meant every word it felt right to bask in his earned glory. “Not very modest are we now,” Myrielle said, passing the wine to Tyrek. Alycilles snorted. “Why should I when Loras and I did something others only dream off,” he said, eyeing his blonde cousin. “He’s got you their Myrielle,” Saphira spoke back with.   
“I would have to agree with my fellow knight. This is our night to enjoy our victories. If not now then when,” Loras said as he himself took a swig of the Arbor wine. “So, are you guys scared of any retaliation from him?” Margaery asked. The prince looked at her and saw worry in her eyes. Whether that was the wine making her emotional, he didn’t know. “The Mountain knows who’s family holds his leash. A little embarrassment won’t send him after our heads.” the prince said. “Though I would watch my back If I were you Loras. My grandfather's protection only goes so far,” he said playfully. Loras smirked,   
“The Mountain wouldn't dare step foot in the reach,” he said.   
“Maybe,” Alycilles said as he lifted the wine jug above his head, finishing the rest of the Arbor wine. After he was done he tipped the jar over, a single drop of the special wine hitting the ground empty. “Huh, why did it feel like there was more in there originally,” the prince said.   
They all sighed, looked at each other and shared a laugh. “So. what now,” Tyrek asked, his speech a little slurred. Alycilles turned to Margaery, catching her attention, her doe eyes looking heavy.   
“Don’t you owe me a game of cyvasse, my lady,” he stated to her. This widened her eyes, the young flower growing a smirk across her face. “You wish to play now?” she asked.   
“Better now since you’ll be leaving in the morning,” he said. “Plus, I have more wine in my room.” This perked up the rest of the ladies.   
“I already feel like I’m going to pass out,” Elinor said as she yawned.   
“I'm right there with you,” Tyrek said. Alycilles looked at him and gave the boy a light growl. “Come now cousin. Surely you can last longer than the girls,” he said. Within him saying that, the ladies let out sounds of offense. Cerenna letting out a scoff, holding a hand to her mouth. “You think we can’t hold our own, princeling,” Myrielle said as she poke Alycilles with her finger. Alycilles held his arms up defensively, chuckling as he saw the two sisters eyeing him, their hands going up to their hips. “We do out number you boys, if anything we’ll be the ones to outlast ya’ll,” Saphira said. “Well then. Shall we begin,” Alycilles said.

They made their way to the princes’ chambers, a room large enough to house all of them to continue their antics. In their march to his room though, they came across a couple of kingsguard and Lannister men who were sent to find the young group. The two Lannister sisters, Myrielle, and Cerenna, were made aware that their father, Ser Stafford Lannister, was looking for the two girls. Leaving with pouting faces, their group was growing smaller. The rest of them made it to the prince's personal chambers. As they entered his room, the prince couldn’t help but notice as they all gandered at his room, all except Saphira who was all too familiar with it. “Wow, I didn’t know the Red Keep has chambers this big,” Elinor said. “You should see the King’s chambers,” the prince said.   
As they gawked around at the many wonders the prince had, Saphira went over to his wine set, watching them as Alycilles went for his Cyvasse set.   
He opened the box and removed the board from within, placing the colored board on his table. He noticed Margaery casualing walking to his side as he set up the pieces. “So, care to play, or are you chicken?” he asked her. She smirked, rubbing against him as she sat at the other end of the table. “Ready when you are my prince.”   
The young flower took her pieces as Alycilles placed the curtain in between the board. The others soon made their way over, along with the wine Saphira had gathered, and begun to prepare goblets for them. “What type of wine is this,” Tyrek asked, taking sips of the stuff. “Just some spiced honey wine from Lannisport. More of the fancy stuff your all use too,” Alycilles said modishly. He took his goblet and prepared for his rival, setting up his mountains and the rest of his pieces, making sure his king was secured and safe. He looked up, unable to see Margeary’s side of the board due to the curtain. “Ladies first,'' he said. Margeary had a devised look on her face as she began to work her pieces. This was going to be interesting.

His cyvasse match against Margaery was going as well as he could expect. The girl was still quite the challenge, even with her mind succumbing to the wine. They had played a total of four games so far, each of them winning two. Throughout those games their companions have slowly started to feel too drunk, and slowly started to make their leave, clumsily and stumbling side to side, some with wine stains on their clothes.   
The princess was the last one lasting in the princes’ room, the girl resting on her brother's bed. Margaery was currently flying her dragon over the prince's mountains, looking to burn his king. “I’ve captured a number of your pieces, Allie. I hope you have a strategy to protect your king,” she said with a hiccup. The prince couldn’t help but smile at her and simply took a sip from his golden goblet. “Well, I can’t make any more moves. Your turn.” Alycilles sat his goblet down and looked at the board. Her dragon was within range of his trebuchet. His king was being protected by his two elephants, and beyond that he had a few heavy horses standing off against her spearmen. His own dragon was being shadowed by a mountain, and Margaery seemed to not have noticed it.   
He placed his dragon in a certain spot on the field, biding his time, waiting for Margeary to make a mistake. First things first.   
I’ll use my trebuchet to kill your dragon,” he said, moving his piece on top of her onyx dragon. She looked on in surprise as her eyes widened as if she couldn't believe what happened.   
“Your turn,” the prince said. He looked at Margaery in her flustered state. He couldn’t help but stare at her face, her cheeks red from the wine and her face focused made the prince feel warm inside. “Okay. then how about this. She moved her last elephant towards his king, taking out one of his spearmen.   
“Gotcha, and soon it’ll be your king,'' she said confidently.  
“Oh, quite confident my lady, but I think you forgot one thing,” the prince said. “Oh,” the girl said as the prince made his move. The prince grabbed his ivory dragon piece, and flew it over to her king piece, only for her to follow his hands as her mouth became agape.  
“Well Margaery. looks like I win.” the girl's eyes widened as she looked at the board. “Oh, I forgot about your dragon. How could I be so foolish,” she said with a pout. He couldn't help but chuckle as he looked at her poking her lip out. “Well. I guess we can call it at that, my lady,” he said.   
“She sighed and smiled back at him. “You were a worthy challenge. You control your dragon well,” she said.   
“I treasure the dragon piece. They are powerful, dangerous, and beautiful, and can be the greatest tool,” he said, turning the ivory piece in his hand. She watched him and slowly moved to his side. “I never knew you had such a liking for dragons,” she said. He placed the piece down. I always had a liking for them. More so now,” he said.   
“Because of the dragon egg Lord Varys gifted you,” she said. He looked at her, only to receive a smile from her face. She could put two and two together quite easily. “Would you like to see it?” he asked. She perked up at that, and nodded her head.   
He made his way over to his chest with Margaery following him. He grabbed the key that was nearby and used it to unlock the chest. Margaery was moving to his back, peering over his shoulder in anticipation.   
The prince turned to her, his hands holding the silver egg gently and firm. He had to be careful. Even with the effects of the wine leaving his body, his hands still felt wobbly, and dropping his dragon egg was the last thing he wanted. The maiden basked at the marvel, gliding her fingers across the thing.   
“Wow, why did he give you and your sister such a thing?” she asked. He shrugged his shoulders. “I’m not sure exactly. He said they would be more valuable than any jewel, and that they're nice to look at...but I think he expects us to do more with them,” the prince said. “Do you think they will hatch,” she said, feeling the eggs scales. “I’m... not sure, that would be sure to add a new element to the Red Keep,” he said. She turned back down to the egg.  
“Such a fascinating thing,” she said.   
“Yes, it is,” Alycilles said, meeting Margeary’s eyes. The two were silent for a while, just gazing into each other's eyes, waiting for the moment he knew was coming, until the two leaned forward and locked lips.   
With the help of the wine, the prince pressed his tongue against her lips, to which she opened them almost immediately with a giggle, their two tongues wrapping around each other.   
Alycilles placed his egg down to the side, and grabbed Margaery’s waist, pulling her closer to him. She didn’t resist, and he didn’t relent as her hands washed themselves through his hair. He was surprised when she pushed him to the ground and hopped into his lap. Her eyes danced in his own with lust that he matched. She gave him soft moans each time their lips smacked. Her tongue was a taste he never got tired off and he wanted more. His hands began to explore her body and found them squeezing her breast lightly, eliciting a soft gasp from the girl. They were soft and felt unreal through her thin dress. His thumb rubbed the center of her mounds, finding her nipples. He could feel them getting hard the more he rubbed them. He decided to pinch them which caused her to moan in his mouth. The look she gave him said she was enjoying it, so he continued, both of them wrestling each other with their tongues. Soon after she pulled back, a trail of saliva splitting as she gasped for breath. “Wow,” she said to which Alycilles simply chuckled. He decided to go for her neck, giving her a small peck. He had to be careful so he didn’t leave any marks there. Margaery moaned some more, a little louder this time. It was music to his ears which he enjoyed greatly. He felt her hands at the back of head, then turned his face to hers. She smiled quickly then attacked his lips.   
Gods.   
He wanted to do more but a sudden sound of a cough to his side broke their lips apart. They both turned their heads to see Saphira, sitting up from the bed and rubbing her eyes. “Sorry, am I interrupting something,” she said. The two of them both blushed, as Saphira eyed them. Margaery stood up from his waist, which disappointed the prince. She pressed down her skirt, finding her composure. “Well, the night is growing old. I appreciated this time my prince.” Her words sent a thrill through him. “It was my pleasure,” he said with a smile. He watched as she left his room, closing the door behind her. He then turned to his sister, who was just standing, watching the engagement. He smirked as he walked over to her. “You have a nice nap?” he asked. ‘Mmm, it was alright. Though watching you two was more entertaining,” she said. She moved closer to him as he rubbed his eyes. “Well, I think your tiredness rubbed off on me,” he said. “Oh, like how Margaery was rubbing against you,” she said suddenly. He nearly jumped at her words. She always liked to tease him. “Yeah, I guess you can say that. It was quite the surprise. Glad you enjoyed the show,” his drunken voice said sarcastically, trying to match her tease.   
She must have been surprised at his response, cause she slightly gasped. Alycilles felted little a accomplish over his sister, especially after how she basically told Joffrey and himself off in the throne room. Even if it was a small victory, his drunken stupor made it feel bigger. His sister started to walk closer to him again. “Oh, has that Arbor Gold awoken the silver lion.”   
He found her amusing.   
“This silver lion was the one who awoke you, lioness” he said with a smirk feeling the comeback was worthy.   
“Ha,” she said with a hint of charm.   
She moved within arms reach of him, and did something that surprised him. She grabbed his shirt and pulled him into her face, pressing her lips against his. It surprised him at first, but he found his lips moving out of his control as he kissed her back. It was a quick one, not as long as he and Margaery did, but whether it was his mind succumbing to the wine, her lips tasted just as good as Margaerys, stained with wine that was sweet on their lips. The moment was over as soon as it began, with his sister staring at his eyes. She wore a soft smile, her silver hair lining the sides of her face. Her matching green and blue eyes, pouring into his own.  
“Gods,” was all his tangled tongue could say.   
“Hows that for a surprise,” she said. And passed by him, leaving his room giving him one last glance before she closed the door. He was left there befuddled, the last of his mind losing to the many potions he consumed through the night. He fell to his bed, not even bothering to change out his clothes, and dreamt about everything that happened that night.


End file.
